He's There
by Super-nitrous-Supra
Summary: CHAPTER 14 FINALLY UP! 100 years later, history is rewritten. The truth about the Opera house is discovered, the truth about THAT book, is finally known. "I found proof. This time I really have."
1. PROLOGUE

**Author note:**

This story takes place in present day. I am altering reality here: the story of the movie (supposedly) actually happened, and were written about in a book "Le Fantôme de L'Opéra" by Gaston Leroux. (Yes, this is the real book the musical is based on – but my story differs slightly from reality). A stage musical of The Phantom of the Opera was never made, but a movie musical was made, very similar to the one released in 2004… but this was released in 1992, and was not that much of a hit; but had a cult following. All 'Phantom of the Opera' Characters look as they did in the 2004 movie.

Obligatory Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera Musical, its characters, its music, and its plot - though I wish I did. I only own the characters I create and the fictional situations I put them in.

PS: I own so little, do not deny me a review or two?

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HE'S THERE 

PROLOGUE

They had gone. The screaming mob, the chanting sheep. Those hypocritical opera rats that had come looking for a murder, with their own murderous eyes and boiling blood. They sealed off the catacombs of the Opera House, leaving the Phantom to his dark fate, and what they believed would be a just death. Painful... and slow. They had been called away with words that the Opera House would soon collapse as its foundations were devastated by hungry flames, those flames that had erupted from the jealous crash of the house chandelier.

So they left, losing their identities to the tragic opera house fire. The Opera House was said to be cursed, still haunted by the presence of the Opera Ghost. But now, he was no longer in human form, but a true poltergeist. A ghost out for vengeance against the cruel end to his long-suffering life. Parisians avoided this particular Opera House as though it housed victims of the bubonic plague, which had ravaged Europe in the 1800s.

The tale of the Phantom of the Opera spread, even a well selling book was written about the Opera House tragedy; and was the towns' claim to fame… or infamy. Until the next big scandal. Suspicious, conspiring minds found a new haunting to latch onto, and the tale of the Opera Ghost began to wear itself dry. Those that were part of the tale grew old and died, those they had told seemingly forgot their predecessors' colourful history, and talk of the curse died or was covered up for the sake of the entrepreneurs.

It was then, that a wealthy Frenchman, Monsieur Garnier, decided to stake his claim, and leave a legacy in France. He bought the Opera House, and began renovations, determined to bring the opera house back… and possibly beyond its former glory. The fire-ravaged innards were gutted; new materials and the finest craftsman were imported from Spain and Italy. Soon enough his work was complete, the Opera House was reborn. While it maintained its roots in the original design, it was now bigger and bolder than it had even been. To a great fanfare the Opera House opened in all its glory, further strengthening the love and exclusivity of Opera in France. Despite the Opera House living in the shadow of another more successful Opera House, it's successes were not to be taken lightly. New Operas were written, great performers were discovered and paraded on its stage, musical geniuses were employed and fired, vagrant artists came and went, but the popularity of the Opera never swayed. Even as decades passed, and the Opera House changed owners, and went through further refurbishments, it never closed it doors due to lack of popularity. Shows that played there were a hit… as if the very scandal that had once made the theatre so infamous lived inside its walls, inexorably drawing patrons into its mystery and magic. The Opera House majesty was so firmly grounded in history, people couldn't stay away… and the magic of this Theatre lives on….

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	2. Trust me, I'm only rewriting history!

**Chapter One:**

TRUST ME, I'M ONLY REWRITING HISTORY 

_Paris, 2004…_

The front door exploded open, and Kari jumped with fright dropping the book she had been reading, and the musical score that had been balancing on her lap and looked over towards the door. Much as her rational mind had expected, Monique was stumbling through the doorway, her arms heavily laden with books, large scrolls of paper and the such. Kari sighed as Monique dropped her load onto the floor and looked over at Kari with a Mona Lisa style 'I know something' smile. "What? What is it now?" Kari asked with feigned frustration, "More discoveries?" she ventured. She couldn't really be frustrated at her, for they a strong bond, both lovers of the arts, visual, literary and of course, performance art. They had met at the acclaimed Straata Theatrical Arts Academy in London, where Kari (who had moved from the USA to be there) was training and at the top of her game in 'Classical Vocal and Theatre Art', and Monique, coming from a dancers background had entered to take part in the Modern and Musical Theatre course. Their paths intersected in Theatre Skills, Theory of Stage Production and Ensemble Vocal classes, and from a chance meeting they had become nearly inseparable.

Moniques smile widened, and she cocked one eyebrow "Oh yes… yes indeed." She nodded, a cheeky look on her face.   
"I thought you were practicing your part?" Kari raised an eyebrow quizzically, casting an eye over the MOULIN ROUGE! Script that had fallen from Monique's pile of things. Monique had gained the lead role in the new stage production, styled on the successful movie MOULIN ROUGE!

"And I thought you were going over your Aria?" Monique countered eyeing the score that lay at Karis feet. Kari was part of the Pierre De Coueluff Opera Company, who regularly performed in Paris, and other parts of France. Kari was secretly crossing her fingers and aspiring for more touring of an international flavour.

"Touché'" Kari responded.

"I have been indulging my love of history." Monique announced, seating her self inelegantly on the floor, and spreading her legs to a wide 'V' to organise her books and papers in front of her. "It started off quite innocently, I assure you. I was looking for history about the Moulin Rouge, you know, for my understanding of the theatres history, to glimpse into the lives of the real courtesans and patrons, to help with my portrayal of Satine. and then I… went a little too far back into history and found myself looking at other French theatres – namely some Parisian Opera Houses." She raised her eyes from the books she was leafing through to regard Kari sheepishly.

Kari sighed, letting her head fall to one side to regard Monique seriously, "Oh... I'm sure it was all 'accidental'." She shook her head, "You're obsessed!"  
"You can talk!" Monique cried back in mock horror, gesturing to the book that had fallen to the floor beside the Aria score, 'Le Fantome de l'Opera' by Gaston Leroux.

Kari laughed, "I didn't say that being obsessed was a bad thing…. I just said you're obsessed. Almost as much as me."  
"What!" Monique looked back indignantly, "I am SO obsessed as much as you ARE!" she near-shouted, "If not more..." she added wickedly.  
Kari snorted and rolled her eyes.  
Monique straightened up a bit, "I saw the movie before you did!"

Kari threw her hands up "BY ONE DAY!"  
"Uhh, make that one day, 2 hours and 30 minutes, thankyou very much!" Monique smiled triumphantly; she loved lording that fact over her. "Annnddd," she added, deliciously, "I've read the book more times than you have!"

"Argh! You said you'd read it 21 times! This is my 21st time reading it now… and I'm almost half way through now… so… THERE!" Kari countered.  
Monique looked smug, "I just finished my 22nd time, last night!" She folded her arms across her chest looking victorious. They glared each down for a moment, then finally broke to laughter. "Why the hell are we fighting about this?" Kari finally asked.  
"'Cos I love him more!" Monique replied in a singsong voice.

"Shut up and tell me your so-called discoveries." Kari replied; "I love him more," she muttered under her breath, but Monique didn't hear it.

Both girls had been obsessed with Le Fantome de L'Opera book since they had discovered it, and with the The Phantom of the Opera movie since its release in 1992. They had been diehard fans since as long as they could remember when they were both children, and were shocked to find out that fact about each other when they met each other at the Academy. They loved the story for its passion, its wonderfully twisted plot, its tragedy, but they both also happened to believe the story was true. No press releases from publishers or movie producers could convince them it wasn't. The first time Monique had read the book, before she'd even opened the cover, she had thought she had picked up a historical book- and that it was supposed to be a true story. Since then she had believed it to be fact, even after learning it was a fiction book on completing her first read, she'd only been momentarily deterred. She had to believe in the Angel of Music. She wanted a Man to look up to, with no real Father, she had little else. Kari was the opposite, she had known the book to be fiction, but the more she had read it – the greater the passion infused her soul, and she felt the emotions to strongly to believe them to be fiction.

"I found proof." Monique announced bluntly. Kari just stared back at her, she'd heard Monique telling her for sometime that she was on the path of a great discovery, but so far, not many fruits of her labour had been shown to be worthwhile. While Kari's emotions begged her that the story be true, the rational parts of her ignored tried to ignore the voices, and was happy to let the story live in her heart. Monique was much more aggressive with her belief, she wanted to prove it… wanted to find it… touch it. It seemed she expected to find the Angel of Music and tell him he rocked... or something like that.

Monique looked into Kari eyes, seemingly reading her thoughts. She breathed out slowly, her lip quivered, "No… Kari, I really have this time." Her tone was completely serious, her voice slightly wavering.  
Kari leant forward; Monique was too serious this time. "What?" she slid off her chair and joined Monique on the floor, amidst the old, dilapidated musty-smelling books that lay piled on the floor.  
"The book! Gaston Leroux's first release was privately funded." She turned a book around, so that it faced Kari, her finger marking a section she wanted her to read. It was an excerpt from an old English newspaper clipping; the caption stated it was from 1890. The main body of the news article mentioned a new Opera Score that had been released, and further down, it mentioned books about Opera house's – and just as the very bottom before the clipping had been cut was the mention of Gaston Leroux, "a privately funded limited release of the oft' told fable of an Opera Ghost, by Gaston Leroux has been met-" and there the clip cut off.

Kari frowned, looking at the rest of the page, the page had other numerous clippings and advertisements for Operas in the late 1800s, the point was to show the popularity of the Opera as an entertainment medium. The part about Gaston Leroux was only there by chance, just that it happened to be inside the frame that was cut. But, this was hardly a great discovery, yes it was odd that the novel had been privately funded, rather then subsidised by the Chancellor of Literary Arts, as was the usual course of action in those days, especially by fledgling writers; but it was by no means completely unique.  
"Okay...this is... umm, interesting, but I don't see where this is going." Kari looked up at Monique.  
Monique reached for another book, "Gaston Leroux's novel was funded privately, but from the business sector, from a subsidiary of Savion d'Buisson. Now, they were not a printing company for books, they printed posters, advertisements and flyers for businesses, and... theatres, in the 1800s." she showed her some pages from more dust-ridden books that had been taken from the rarely-used early history vault of the library they belonged to. Kari nodded, starting to get lost, and not following Monique's path at all. "So... I looked further into it, and Savion d'Buisson got a few other mentions regarding private funding, but it was the subsidiary of Savion d'Buisson. A company that stamped its contracts with a seal, containing SBDC." She paused and pulled a thick book towards them both, it had a faded maroon cover, that was nearly ripping off its spine, in embossed lettering on the front cover it declared The History of French Nobility. She opened the book to where a scrap piece of paper hung from it like the tongue of a tired, old dog. "Monsieur Françoise de Chagny, with the wealth inherited from his father, bought out a subsidiary of the trademark Savion d'Buisson, and trades under the conjoined acronym of SBDC." Monique read.

Karis insides twirled, connections started to fire in her brain, she didn't want to get ahead of herself. She had heard 1 + 1 and had come back with the answer 5.   
Kari opened her mouth to speak, not sure which thought to vocalise first,  
she didn't get a chance, "Yes, Françoise de Chagny, is Vicomte Raoul de Chagnys' Father. He bought out Savion d'Buisson when Raoul would only have been little." Monique flicked over another page, "de Chagny was widowed 2 years before his own death by consumption, leaving his families wealth to his only Son, the soon to be wed, Raoul de Chagny." She pointed at the paragraph she had just summarised from. Karis eyes widened, was all this real? And if it was, did it mean anything?  
Monique looked over at Kari, "Gaston Leroux was never heard of again after he published THE book… it was said he acquired sufficient wealth, and too much unwanted attention from the release of it that he went into hiding, and died shortly after, of uraemia; at the age of 59." Monique looked skywards thoughtfully. "59, gee.. guess he didn't get much chance to enjoy his wealth." Kari muttered. Monique shrugged, "He didn't have any chance to enjoy his wealth at all, he didn't need to." Monique eyes Kari, waiting for her to take the bait. She did, "Why?" she inquired.  
"Because Gaston Leroux did not exist." Monique looked completely confident of what she'd just said. Kari frowned, "Uhh... okay... well, that's great... coming from someone living in 2005, only over a hundred years after his lifetime." She smiled, and started to inch away, the great discovery it seemed had been another excited daydream of Monique's.

Monique flicked the page back over, to the beginning of the section on Françoise de Chagny, "Hey.. trust me, I'm only rewriting history here!" she sniffed. Kari humoured her and came closer once more. "It briefly mentions Françoise's wife, Aevery, who came from a commoner background, daughter of a farmer Bastion Leroux, AND." She grabbed another book, a much smaller, thinner, but equally decaying book; it appeared to be on the history of Symphonic Orchestras of the 1800s. "A much renowned musician, the Swedish violinist Gustave Daae, who's heart and muse, it was said, lay in France. Sir Daae to some, but often, the more French sounding 'Gaston' to his French accompanists and those close to him." Monique read from a stained page, hanging on to the book by two threads. She sat up and looked at Kari. "Gaston Leroux… was a creation… a fusion of Christine's beloved Father, and Raouls Mother, a former proletarian, and long time lover of the arts. Christine and/or Raoul wrote the book! Gaston Leroux was just a pseudonym, to hide and protect their true identities, just as the Opera Populaire is a creation to hide and protect the identity of the real Opera House that belonged to the Phantom!" Monique sat back and studied Karis face. Kari sat back also, in stunned silence. As crazy as it was, it DID sound plausible, in a conspiracy theorist kind of way; suddenly the dream of knowing seemed that little bit closer. But how? How could two obsessed young ladies discover the truth about a possible 'fairytale' some hundred years later… it didn't seem possible.

"I know, I know, I know. It all seems too much… too unbelievable. How come no one talks about it much? But then again… I don't think I've met anyone who's even a quarter as obsessed as we are. I mean, most people we know don't even know what The Phantom is! This book –" she touched Karis book with her foot, "The movie, the story, the songs, they were my refuge during my parents divorce… I guess it's embedded in my psyche. I can't let it go." She sighed and turned away, busying herself with looking through the scrolls. Kari looked on, mentioning her parents was always a sobering experience for Monique.

"So..." She turned around to face Kari once more the sadness gone, or at least hidden. "This is an old architectural plan for the Paris Opera House, which most people agree the Opera Populaire was based on." She rolled out the scroll, and turned it to face Kari. Kari looked at it closely, analysing the symbols at the side, to decipher the faded drawing, "Well, I can see why they would say this seems to be the theatre it was based on, I mean there are seventeen stories – seven of those are beneath the stage level – plenty of room for the Phantoms labyrinth." She seemed enchanted by the pictorial of the famed Opera House. Monique nodded, "I know… at first it seemed so likely, BUT in this book," she grabbed another volume, "talks about the small backlash, mainly by the impoverished regarding water supply. The surrounding areas were deprived of water to support the lake the ran beneath the Paris Opera, and that lake was kept at full level from 1880 – 1884, at request of the Opera owners for their lavish productions. Therefore the tunnels beneath the Paris Opera would have been completely flooded… the Phantom can't have been there."  
"Oh." Kari replied, suddenly saddened, she had been bitten by Moniques 'need-to-find-him' bug. "What's the lake for anyway? I know you told me before, but I forgot." She asked.  
"It acts as a ballast against the weight of the stage, the level of water is altered according to the weight of the stage." She replied, reaching behind her to grab another scroll, "But I found something interesting out, indeed the Paris Opera Theatre was gutted by fire, and restored, but that was not a rare occurrence in the time. Theatres during that era used gas lighting and lamps, there were fires in all the major theatres of the time, many theatres suffered multiple fires, often they were able to be contained, some theatres endured varying amounts of damage, and half a dozen theatres were completely ruined by fires. A couple of these theatres were small and less significant, but the rest I had a little look at. Turns out, our friend Monsieur Charles Garnier didn't just own the Paris Opera - which was his first purchase, and a reasonably successful one at that – but he bought two others. Both of them had been significantly damaged by fire. One of them had been completely damaged inside by the fire, a theatre that rivalled the Paris Opera for success." Monique looked over at Kari, raising her eyebrows, enjoying the moment of holding back the piece de resistance.

Kari was entranced, "And?" raising her eyebrows back at her.

Monique smiled, "See… you're totally curious!"  
"Yes, YES! I admit I am. You've got me. Now tell me." Kari demanded.  
"Okay.. okay. Oh, hold on… I need to pee." She jumped up and disappeared towards the bathroom.

"URGH!" Kari growled in frustration and flopped down to the floor, her mind reeling.

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Just thought I would be mean and leave you there, with enough to whet your appetite.

I promise it'll get more interesting and pace will start to pickup as more details are revealed. And then… well, that's when the fun begins. :)

Please do me the courtesy of leaving your reviews. :)


	3. Let me be right this time

A/N: Thankyou for your kind reviews, it has inspired me to keep going – and try my best to get rid of typos and other nonsense! Please continue to review and let me know what you think. Knowing people are out there and reading this gives me the drive to keep continue

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**Chapter Two:**

LET ME BE RIGHT THIS TIME

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After washing her hands Monique reappeared, she sank down to the floor, laying out across the books.  
"So? Is that theatre… still standing?" Kari looked intently at her, crossing her fingers in her minds eye.   
Monique sighed with pretend indifference and nodded, "Yeah."  
"Really?" Karis face brightened, "Do you know the theatres name? Do you know where it is? Do I know of this theatre?" she threw the questions out at her quick-fire.  
Monique smiled, "Oh, " she sighed with mock indifference once more, "That theatre is a little known theatre called…" she yawned trailing her hand across the floor lazily, her hand passed over the score of the Aria that lay on the floor, she flipped it over, a bold stamp on the back of the socre PROPERTY OF OPERA DE PALLISADE glared up at them boldly from the papers. Monique raised her eyes to Karis, her pupils were large inky orbs boring up at her, "The Opera de Pallisade." She finished in French accent.

Kari gasped, "WHAT?" she sat up straighter, "Are you joking with me?" she half-cried, half-accused.  
Monique shook her head as a no, and unrolled the scroll before them both, it was an architectural plan of the Opera de Joyleux, Gala frowned, "But this is-"  
Monique interrupted, "This Opera House was named that from its previous owner -after himself. Seems a careless ballerina knocked over a table of burning gas lamps back stage, the wings caught fire… and eventually the inside of the theatre was completely gutted. After the theatre fire - believing it to be bad luck - Jean-Luc Joyleux, sold it. One - Bianca Pallisade purchased the theatre, and in keeping with the theatres tradition, named the Theatre after herself but basically ignored the theatre for the rest of her life. She had one of her illegitimate lovers run it for her – but they don't give his name in the publication" Monique sat back, "So..." she pushed the scroll closer to her, "What do you think?"

Kari looked down, "Let me have some time."

Monique nodded, and got up off the floor, and went to the kitchen. She sat up on the sink and looked out the small kitchen window, and leaned right up against the fridge and smiled – in this awkward position you could see the Eiffel Tower – it was their shabby apartments only claim to fame. She liked to sit up there and look at it… marvel at its majesty, when she wasn't ready 'Gaston Leroux's ' novel, and marvelling at IT's majesty. Monique sighed aloud, "Let me be right this time…" she murmured softly, as if the Tower could grant her the wish.

Kari sat admiring the architectural plans of the Opera de Pallisade, the very theatre where she would soon, hopefully be singing the Aria sitting on her floor. It was a toss up between whether she would get to sing it, or her Russian arch-rival, the Yekaterina Katsovich. No one ever called her Yekaterina, it was only Kat or Katerina, and the way her last name sounded was too good for many of the company to pass up. Those that didn't like her, and yes, there were quite a few, called her "Kats-a-bitch" behind her back.

Karis eyes wandered over the sketch of the theatre, then turned to the book that Monique had left beside it, it was opened on a page about Charles Garnier:

_The Opera de Pallisade purchased by Bianca Pallisade in 1870, following a devastating fire, took two hundred and twenty architects 8 years to restore. The theatre was built resembling, but with the intention of overshadowing, the Paris Opera. While Bianca succeeded in opening a grand theatre in 1879, that did overshadow the Paris Opera in size, with a 20 story building, 9 stories of which, lay beneath the stage, the theatre never reached the same critical acclaim that the Paris Opera had. The Opera de Pallisade was still wildly successful by the standards of the day, and many a star was discovered upon the grand stage. After a strange controversy and another tragic fire, the ill-fated theatre was once again sold (the theatre had changed hands many times) and bought by Charles Garnier for its similarities to his beloved Paris Opera._

Kari sat back, "Woah." She said aloud to herself, it all sounded like a dream. Perhaps she'd fallen asleep and was simply dreaming this whole crazy scenario. She shifted her eyes back to the drawing of the Opera de Pallisade, it too had several floors beneath the stage that would be routinely flooded for ballast for the heavy stage. She couldn't believe it. She looked out towards the kitchenette, Monique was seated in rather uncomfortable position, gazing out the window as she often did. "Monique… I…. I think you're right." She stammered, barely believing she was able to say those words.  
Monique shrieked and jumped off the bench and bounded into the lounge room, where Kari stood up and grabbed her hands, suddenly they both screamed and jumped up and down around the lounge like mad things. "Oh my god!" Kari squealed, "Can you believe it?" Monique shrieked back, all the while they continued to bounce up and down excitedly. Suddenly a pounding from the floor knocked them out of their regression to 13 year olds. "STOP JUMPING ON MY CEILING!" a voice boomed from below them. Kari rolled her lips into her mouth to hold her laughter in, a small snort escaping her nostrils. "God, that guy is such an ass!" Monique rolled her eyes and deliberately stamped her foot, picturing Mr Lincoln standing in his lounge below them with his broom in hand, ready to bang it up against his ceiling if they made so much as a sound. Kari laughed at that, collapsing onto the sofa, her face flushed but balanced well with her endearing smile.

Monique realised she had a broad smile plastered over her face and collapsed beside her. "I can't believe it. We're so close now." She mused, almost talking to herself. "Well.. where do we go from here?" Kari turned her head to regard Monique. Monique sighed, "Well… " she trailed off, "Oh.. I didn't get that far. I did all the research! Its your turn to plan!" she waved her hand in the air.

Kari closed her eyes… her thoughts drifting to the Opera de Pallisade, the Aria she'd have to practice… the Phantom, they all came and went – fully occupying her minds eye for a moment at a time. She sighed, "Well I suppose I could request to rehearse the Aria in the theatre, tell them I need to get a feel for the acoustics, work out how far I'll need to project and whatever – and then when we get a moment we can go exploring the theatre?" she offered with a shrug. Monique looked over at her, "God, that was simple," she frowned, "Well do you suppose we could go tomorrow?" she added.

Tomorrow seemed so soon, well… it was soon; it was… tomorrow. Butterflies stirred in Karis stomach, desperate to start the journey, but afraid to take it all the same. What if they reached a dead end, what if they found something they didn't want to? But she couldn't back out. "Uhh, well I can ring the director and see if he thinks it'll be okay to use the theatre. I mean, I don't see why it will be a problem – the crew will be in their already, breaking down the last set and getting the next one up. As long as we don't get in the way or whatever it should be okay." She reasoned. "Cool. Well…. Call him." She tossed her the phone. "HER. And geez… hold your horses, you sure about this?" she hesitated. Monique murdered her with a glare. "OKAY! God!" Kari picked up the phone and began dialling. Monique jumped to her feet excitedly, she would have to read the book again tonight, or at least the section regarding Christines descent into the Phantoms lair, to make sure she had a clear idea of what she was looking for.

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Thanks for reading. Please leave me a review, then continue on.  
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I hope you are enjoying so far, but as always it should generally get better with progress.


	4. The Theatre is alive

**Chapter Three:**

THE THEATRE IS ALIVE

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THE NEXT DAY… 

"Oh my god…. We're standing backstage in the Phantoms theatre." Monique breathed. Kari laughed, they had arrived in the theatre 10 minutes before, and the whole time Monique had been giving a running commentary, which had started with "Oh my god, we're touching the stage door of the Phantoms theatre" and "Oh my god, we're walking up the stage entrance steps of the Phantoms theatre."

"You know what would be cool?" Kari turned to Monique.  
"What?" she asked wide-eyed.  
"If.. like, Oh my god, you would shutup in the Phantoms theatre!" she replied.  
Monique gave her a look of mock horror, "Oh my god, you're a biarch in the Phantoms theatre!" she mocked right back, and made a stupid face at Kari, and she made an equally stupid one back.

"Come on…" Kari pulled her by the sleeve towards the stage, as the stage hands were descending from ladders, and appearing from beneath the trap door.

One of the stage hands stopped when he saw them both, "Umm.. who are you?" he raised an eyebrow, "Oh, I'm Kari – I'm here to practice my Aria, don't worry, I wont get in the way."  
"Uh-huh." He nodded, "And who are you?" he shifted his gaze to Monique.  
"Oh…" Monique looked blank a moment, then grinned, "I'm her muse." She replied.  
Karis eyes widened, 'my muse? What the…!" she thought to herself.  
"Uh-huh." The stagehand nodded and walked past them, disappearing to the stage door to join his buddies on a smoko break.   
"My MUSE?" Kari turned to look at Monique.  
Monique grinned, "I'm….. " she inhaled, "inspiring" she exhaled luxuriously and ponced around the stage dramatically.

Kari wandered across the stage, holding the Aria in her hands, more as a security blanket then a need to check words, or notes. She took a deep breath, consciously trying to relax her muscles, and invoke a feeling of confidence inside her. She began to visualise a full house, all waiting with baited breath to hear her sing. She breathed deeply once more and let her eyes open to survey her audience, catching sigh of Monique, preparing for a pirouette down stage left, she paused a moment then executed a tight double, tarnishing it with a wobbly finish. Kari relaxed her jaw, letting her mouth fall slack and then used her diaphragm to take a deep filling breath – and began to sing.

Monique stopped pirouetting, and leaping about the stage, and moved closer to the wings and turned to watch Kari sing. She always transformed when she began to sing, she held herself with such poise even as her voice danced up and down the scales. While Kari warmed her voice up, Monique sank back into the shadows, and found the door the connected the wings to the theatre foyer. She wandered through the foyer towards the grand front entrance.

The enormity of the place was staggering, she felt so small, beneath it's rich grandeur. At the main entrance at either side of the gold-handled double doors leading to the main floor of the house were two semi-circular grand staircases leading to the second floor circle and box seating. She climbed the left staircase, sensing the thickness of the red velvet carpet beneath her feet, trailing her hand along the luxurious dark wood banister, with it's intricate carvings of angels, and gargoyles. She breathed in the scent of the Opera house, trying to imagine the theatre in the time of the Phantom, 1881.

The images in her mind were so vivid from envisioning them so many times in her life; she felt the ghosts of the past all around her as if a cold mist had descended upon her. As she closed her eyes she could almost hear the voices, smell the musky smell of pipe tobacco laced with the potent aroma of whiskey. The sounds of the orchestra tuning reverberated from the main house, and sometimes, if silence descended a moment the faint sounds of sopranos warming their voices from the wings. Laughter, murmurings of conversations to her left… the clink of wine glasses meeting in a celebratory toast to her right… and a sweet caress across her collarbone. Monique jumped with a loud gasp, opening her eyes quickly, surveying her surroundings like a woman in danger. Something… someone - had just touched her. She looked each way, spinning herself around in a circle. Nothing. No one. Not a single sound to be heard bar her quickened heart beat in her ears. Her breath came out in short quick gasps, she consciously tried to slow it, breathing in deeply through her nose and out her mouth. Something or someone had touched her shoulder. But there was no one to be seen, nor a single sound to be heard.

Still trying to control her breathing Monique pushed on up the stairs, hurrying along the corridor her eyes scanning the walls before her. She paused a moment at a set of heavy red velvet curtains, eyeing the number on the wall she continued on for another 20 feet, before pausing again at an identical pair of curtains. A metallic plaque on the wall, declared BOX SEATING: 5 in engraved gold lettering. Now she really had to fight to control her breathing. She reached one hand up gently to part the curtains, it was dark inside, she took a calming breath and stepped through the velvet, over the threshold and into Box 5. She could hardly believe it. She walked straight towards the front, leaning against the railing of the balcony box. She looked out at the stage, "Excellent taste… my friend." She said aloud to herself, referring to the Phantoms choice of seating. The view afforded by the premiere seating was exquisite. She gazed down at Kari from her vantage point, she seemed so small for such a big, bright voice that reached her ears.

Kari had fully relaxed now, into her flow and singing as though there really was a full house and enjoying every moment of it. She projected high up into the balcony seating, imagining the men and woman sitting in the back row observing her with gilded opera glasses. She saw the gloves on the womans hands, and soon her dress came into view, a tight corset and voluptuous flowing skirt. The man with her was dressed to the nines, suit, top hat and cane at his side. Suddenly the theatre was filled with wealthy patrons, dressed in the period of the 1800s. They gazed at her through ornate old fashioned opera glasses, fanning themselves distractedly while she sang her heart out. She raised her eyes to regard the balcony patrons, their eyes fixed on her like hawks. And then she saw it. A blur of movement from one of the boxes. Her heart skipped a beat. Box 5. Suddenly her breathing was so out of control, and hitting her high notes wasn't so easy. She stared up at Box 5 – it seemed still… empty. She tried to focus back on her song, but remained ever watchful of the ominous Box 5 – another glimpse of movement, as she went for the climax of the song. She forced herself to look away, and tried to relax her jaw, casting her eyes skyward for a second. The chandelier! The glass beads jiggled against each other, as though chattering excitedly about the imminent journey. Suddenly she forgot the words… all Kari could think of was the chandelier about to fall on her. Panicking, she jumped off the stage and into the orchestra pit, with a high pitched scream that disintegrated to a groan as she landed.

"KARI!" Monique screamed from box 5. What the hell was she doing? She had just leapt off the stage like a madwoman. Monique ran from the box, back down the hauntingly beautiful staircase and through the large double doors into the main house. "KARI?" she called again, running down the aisle towards the orchestra pit at full speed, she had just reached the front section of seating when Kari stood up. "I'm okay." She breathed hard, running her hands over the birds nest that was her hair. "What the hell did you do that for?" Monique demanded looking at her as if she'd gone crazy, which it seemed, she had.

Kari bit her lip, "I… the chandelier!" she pointed upwards. The chandelier remained in it's rightful place, pristine, and still. As beautiful as a sleeping lion. Perhaps as dangerous as a sleeping lion?  
Monique frowned, "What about the chandelier?"

"It… it was moving. It was going to fall. I don't know!" she threw her hands up. "I saw.. things." She admitted with a small degree of shame.  
"You too?" Monique leaned forward. "I saw them… I heard them… smelt them, the patrons they were with me… on the staircase. And then… then something touched me – and I snapped out of it." She explained anxiously, still out of breath.

Kari nodded, "I saw them too. In the theatre… watching me, waiting for me to entertain them."

"The Theatre is alive…" Monique trailed off, then suddenly encircled Kari in a hug, "I know this is the place." she whispered in their embrace.

Kari nodded, "Then lets do what we came here to do." She whispered back. They broke from the embrace and climbed back up onto the stage, heading into the massive backstage area, each one taking a cautious gaze over their shoulders at the barren stage.

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Thankyou for reading! Please leave a review to say you were here. (Yes, it is most important you leave your legacy behind :P )  
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Do return for more updates, wont you.. dear readers:)


	5. Praying for the Chapelle

A/N: Thankyou for the reviews…please keep them coming!

Just a couple of quick comments:

xHybridx : Yes I know there was a stage musical made, I've been to it. At the beginning I said "I'm altering reality" – in the 'world' of this story, no stage musical was ever made, only the book and then the movie (the one that was released in 2004) but that was released in 1992 to limited success.

Amaruk Wolfheart:  Thankyou for your very enthusiastic review:P I hope you didn't hurt yourself too much – so I guess this chapter is for you.

GreenKhronic: Thanks for your nice comments too :) It's been a bit of an obsession of mine for some years too. And Ssssh! Don't tell anyone – but the story of The Phantom of the Opera is really true. 

Galasriniel: Ahh.. my muse. LoL. Thanks for inspiring me to write this… even though you didn't know you were doing it. Anyone else reading this go check out Galas Phantom phanphic, it's good!

To others I missed:  Thanks heaps and heaps! (kisses and hugs to you all)

Without further ado…

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**CHAPTER 4:**

PRAYING FOR THE CHAPELLE

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"So… where do we start?" Kari asked, already knowing what Moniques answer would be.  
"The chapel…" she replied instantly. Then turned to look at Kari, "You think so?" she added.  
Kari nodded, "Definitely. But we should look around while we make our way there, get a feel for the place."  
Monique nodded, her eyes already darting around, taking in the surroundings. Kari watched her a moment, she saw in her eyes what she felt in her own stomach. The nagging presence of fear. "I wonder if that chandelier looks like the old one did?" Kari voiced a lingering thought aloud. Monique looked contemplative, "Well theres only one way to find out, right?" she cocked a brow.

Monique tried to follow her mental map of the theatre layout she had created from reading the book, but she ended up feeling disorientated. She didn't let her feelings of frustration cross her face, just continued to explore. Kari looked across at Monique, her face was calm, almost impassive, seemingly she was the only one who was now nervous… and slightly disoriented. They had wandered around the wings, immediate backstage area around and behind the (modern insertion of the) cyclorama – the place was filled with dismantled scenery and backdrops. Kari found herself studying the scenery wondering what Operas and Ballets they were for, and marvelling at how people could have the patience to create and paint such a huge (and beautiful) piece of art. Meanwhile Monique studied the bland, spider-web covered cement walls, the open plan ceilings, riddled with a vast number of intersecting gangways – almost a lighting technicians version of a spaghetti junction. She wondered about the Phantom roaming these deserted areas in ungodly hours – moving as though free while all the world slept or lived on none the wiser. She felt pangs of pain for him, awash with sympathy she strengthened her resolve. They had to find him. Silently she walked along the perimeter of the prop/scenery storage directly behind the stage, her mind toiling away as if trying to solve a puzzle, and in a way, she was.

Kari looked over at Monique, who seemed lost in a daydream, staring upward.   
"Shall we move on to the chapel?" she called across the semi-darkness.

Monique turned, "Yeah, let's go." She followed Kari out of the alcove, and towards the wings once more. As they headed through the wings, Monique tripped over a rosin box and floundered, falling against someone. She looked up in mild shock, and apology. It was one of the stagehands from earlier. "Sorry." She mumbled. "S'alright." He shrugged and started off once more. "Hey.. could you tell us where the chapel is please?" she called after him. He stopped and turned, "What do you need the chapel for?" he replied. Kari sighed aloud, why did everyone have to ask them prying questions? "Uhh.. to pray. You know. Chapel… God. Prayer and all a' that." Kari replied, over gesticulating as she wondered what the hell she was going on about. "I'm in.. the show that's coming up. I'm up for a solo… so I thought a little bit of divine intervention wouldn't go astray." She added on the end, as if that helped the cause.  
"Uh huh." He answered, then looked over at Monique, "And who are you?"  
Inwardly Monique laughed, what was it with the questions? It was pretty obvious that he really didn't care for the answer anyway. "I'm her muse." She answered simply.

Karis looked skyward in disbelief, then snorted, "ANYWAY!" she cut in before anyone could say anything else, "Just.. please, can you tell us where the chapel is?"  
"Well… there's one down the road." He shrugged.  
"No.. no.. in the theatre. The theatre chapel." Kari looked across at Monique, it was a pity she hadn't stumbled into someone smarter.  
He frowned, "There is no theatre chapel."

They say that all change happens in a moment. Well, that was one of those moments – that at that point in their lives, totally changed everything. A silence descended upon them like a dark cloud. And as though beneath a dark cloud, both girls hung their heads. The stage hand frowned, and shook his head, "strange" he muttered under his breath and turned and resumed his journey away from them. Then silence descended once more. And in that silence, Kari was sure, that she heard Moniques heart shatter.   
Monique didn't know what to do with herself, she wanted to run… or scream… or hide. But she couldn't find a single resource of energy in her body, so sank down to the ground, and sat, staring at the floor.  
Kari sighed inwardly. It had been a wasted journey. Now as she looked back she cursed herself for going along with her, for not looking through all the details to think rationally and force herself to live in reality. She cursed herself for letting the journey happen, letting Monique go through it, and cursed herself for watching her break in half but not having the energy to do anything about it.

'Say something' she demanded of herself. "The chapel doesn't necessarily mean anything. I mean, maybe that was just a detail they added in to alter the theatres presence… maybe we're still on the right track." She offered, trying to convince Monique of something she didn't believe herself, even as she said.  
"I don't think so." She responded slowly "The chapel is a recurring scene, her fathers death is a central theme. I don't think the chapel was fictional. The whole damn story was fictional." Her voice was dark and hollow.

Kari didn't know what to do. "Well… didn't you notice the absence of the chapel on the plans?" she wondered.

"The plans didn't have any of the rooms labelled as to what they were for, it was mainly to show location of stage and the amount of floors and size of the place. Not a map of where to go." She answered flatly.  
A minute of silence passed, as if they had mentally agreed to mourn the passing of a belief.

But then, another minute of silence passed, so perhaps it was just coincidence. Monique pulled the small backpack from her back, and pulled out a little drink bottle, she took an angry swig of the now lukewarm water. She snapped the lid back closed, taking her frustration out on it, guiltily she then gestured the bottle over at Kari, offering her some. Kari shook her head and Monique shoved it roughly back into her bag, allowing silence to reclaim it's place.

Finally Monique sighed and got to her feet, "I want to get out of here." She said unemotionally and started walking. With each step the emotions boiled, frustration, anger, disbelief. She was angry at herself, angry at the theatre, angry at her parents once again. "All because of a fricken chapel!" she snapped, "why couldn't this godammed theatre have a chapel!" she demanded to no one. Her outburst only fuelling her own anger.

She was stopped in her tracks by a man stepping out of the shadows before her. An older man, with greying hair, fine features and a thin frame. He eyed her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. She shrank beneath his gaze. "There WAS a Chapel here." He suddenly said. Another of those life changing moments.

Both Monique and Kari flickered to life once more, as if they had just been plugged in for charging.

"What do you mean?" Kari stepped up beside Monique.  
"I mean there was a Chapel… and now is no longer. One of the last few owners decided he didn't want a chapel in his theatre. It was rarely used and he wanted the space used more efficiently. Plus… they say," he lowered his voice "he resented God. He was…" he lowered his voice even further and Kari and Monique felt themselves leaning in unconsciously "Homosexual" he whispered as if this was a worthy scandal. Monique fought the urge to laugh, this was France, it wasn't as if same sex relationships were rare. Kari looked bemused, "So.. can you tell us where the chapel was then?" she enquired.  
"Yes, it was down this way." He gestured, "You must go as far as you can on this floor, then take the spiral case that spiral right and it shall take you down 3 floors, to the room that was once the chapelle." His voice was light, as if he was scared to tell them.  
"Thanks, uhh… " she raised an eyebrow, "I'm sorry, your name is?"  
"Barron Benois." (Ben-wah) He replied, with a slight incline of his head, "And I apologise, but I must go." He breezed past them, disappearing through the wings towards the stage area.  
Monique turned to regard Kari, "Alright, this way it is then." Her moments of deepest despair and heartbreak were seemingly forgotten.

They hadn't walked far, when they encountered significantly sized obstacles in the form of scenery cut-outs, and the stagehands milling about between them like sheep.  
One very frustrated man walked by then, stopped and glared at them. "You can't be here." He snapped, looking at the two of them as if they were something filthy on the bottom of his shoe.

"We just need to get through here, there's a staircase back there that leads to a place we need to.. get to." Monique tried a relatively honest approach.  
"First of all, who are you? Second, it doesn't matter who you are, because you can't come back here. We're working."

"Well, FIRSTLY, I'm her muse." Monique pointed to Kari, who grit her teeth in glare-come-smile. "Secondly, she is about to star in this show that you are currently preparing for, and third we need to get to the staircase, to get down to the chapel." She finished smartly, then added, rather superfluously "To pray." She looked up into the mans beady eyes with a wide-eyed 'don't resist me' stare.

"I don't care if you have to get to the hospital down there to fix a broken leg – you can't come through. I'm the Stage Manager, it's my ass if you get hurt. It's against safety regulations to let you down there. I hate to break it to you, but there isn't a chapel down there, nor is there a stair case. That was removed a long time ago, it's now a prop lift down to the prop storeroom. So you have no purpose here." He explained pompously, as if he thought what he was doing was brain surgery.

Monique glared at him. "But Barron told us it was this way." She implored him.

"Barron?" he ran a hand distractedly over his closely shaved head.

"Barron. Barron Benois. One of the stagehands." She replied.  
The Stage Manager scoffed, "We have no stagehand of that name. No crew member at all of that name. I suggest you leave and stay out of the way. We're running behind schedule, and not feeling friendly today." He explained with a fake smile, revealing a row of heavily tobacco-stained teeth. Both Kari and Monique recoiled slightly, but he was already turning on his heel and leaving; stalking away angrily.

"What the hell is going on here?" Kari looked over at Monique as they walked back towards the stage area, so far they hadn't achieved anything, bar making it through a few bizarre encounters relatively unscathed. Monique shrugged, "I have NO idea. I mean, who the hell was that man! He doesn't work here, they've never heard of him – but he knew where the things were, except, he was a bit out of date." She thought aloud.  
Karis eyes widened, "the whole bloody theatre is full of phantoms." She muttered to herself.

They arrived at the very edge of the wings once more, the stage in front of them, hallway leading to the dressing rooms behind and to the left of them, and the stage door exit, one floor down and directly behind them. Monique turned and looked at the exit to the outside world, then shifted her gaze to the hallway towards the dressing rooms and rehearsal spaces. "Well, I don't know really know what our next move should be." She admitted quietly.  
Kari followed her line of sight, looking at the exit. "You're not thinking of abandoning the search are you?" she frowned.  
Monique didn't answer immediately, "No." she said finally, "I was tossing up between trying to explore the dressing rooms, which could well be locked – and aside from the whole mirror thing, I'm not sure what we'd be looking for. And I have an inkling the mirror wont be there anymore anyway. OR trying to get to the lower level of the theatre from the outside." She pondered.

"Well that's originally how he was smuggled into the theatre." Kari responded, "From the outside apparently."  
"Yeah, but it wasn't specified where it lead, it was some kind of trap door in the outer wall of the theatre."

"And somehow they ended up in the Chapel." Kari added.

Monique nodded, her eyes were unfocussed – she was still thinking.  
Kari looked upward, her eyes following the paths of the technicians gangways overhead. She wondered if, from up there they might get a better perspective, or find something interesting.

"What if we went up?" / "What if we went down?" they spoke at the same time, Kari voicing the former.

They looked at each other a moment, seemingly weighing up each others suggestions.

"Well this was your idea, so what's your downward idea?" Kari questioned.  
"Well I figured the labyrinth is down there, so heading downward is at least in the right general direction. It's just a matter of getting down there that is the problem. But I wondered about service tunnels? From the outside I mean. They adjust the water levels beneath the Opera house to act as a ballast right? So they must be able to get down there to check the water levels, or to open up the flood gates in some way, surely?"

Karis face changed, this sounded promising, although "Well, I don't remember seeing any big signs on the outside saying SERVICE ENTRANCE, Phantom this way! With a big arrow on it or anything." She said.

Monique gave her a short glare, "Well, your right, I didn't see a service entrance either. But then again, we weren't looking. But, maybe we should look in here. It'd be safer for the entrance to be inside, that way only authorised personnel could get into it, well… in theory anyway." She replied.

"Okay… I say we head this way." Kari decided and headed off towards the dressing rooms. Monique shrugged and followed her, wishing they had bought along the architectural plans, and/or actually made a decisive plan on how to locate the clandestine lair.

They had wandered around the 'talent' areas for sometime - randomly trying doors, which all happened to be locked - before they opened their eyes enough to see a sign directing them towards more storage and servicing areas. The followed the sign, down two flights of stairs and down a hallway with more storage areas. Sound, lighting, Music cupboards, they were all here. They walked further along, reaching what appeared to be a dead end. A dead end that perhaps held promise. It turned out not to be a dead end for when they got there they found a small alcove veered off to the left, and found a hint on the 'dead end' door. AUTHORISED PERSONNEL ONLY, the door declared. A smaller sign was mounted on the door KEY PROPS, STAGE SERVICING. Moniques heart raced, but quickly pulled out of it's race when Kari unnecessarily tried the door – they both knew it would be locked. Monique wondered about kicking the door, but disregarded that thought. That only worked in movies, she was sure. Just as she was about to bemoan the hopelessness of the situation, they heard voices. From behind the door. Kari looked at Monique, Monique looked at Kari, both having perfect 'oh shit!' expressions on their faces, they dived for the alcove and hid behind the small outcropping of wall. Kari flattened herself into the small shadow, while Monique peered around the wall with one eye.  
Two lackadaisical looking glorified props boys emerged from behind the door, carrying (rather carelessly) a large box, one man at each end. They headed off down the hall before the (obviously) self-locking door began it's slow return to it's hinge. Moniques insides burned, she could see the door closing – knowing it was their chance, but knowing they were close. Should she risk it?  
The door groaned as it closed in on it's destination, and Monique could take it now more. The lackies were talking, the door was groaning, her lungs were begging her to breathe. It was now or never. Without knowing what she was going to do, she threw herself like an attacking lion at the door, grabbing it with one hand before it would click into place. It wasn't exactly what she'd pictured – considering the door was so heavy and rather then stopping nicely, it continued to close, giving her hand a decent crush. Kari rushed out in an instant and grabbed the door handle, pulling the door back from her hand. "Ta." Monique breathed, picking herself up from the floor, casting a weary eye over her offended hand, before disappearing inside. Kari followed suit, letting the door clank shut behind them. Plunging them into inky darkness. "Oops." Karis voice floated eerily, disembodied.  
"Yuh… we should'a planned this better." Monique laughed, "But I didn't come completely unprepared." She shrugged one arm out of the small backpack on her back, and pulled out a small torch. She pushed the button and a weak yellow light cut through the darkness.  
She shined it around their surroundings, which now, in the small sliver of light, seemed even more creepy. She searched the walls, and found a light switch, which Kari went over and turned on.  
"Come on.. lets keep going."

They made their way slowly around their new surroundings. It was like an unfinished building, walls seemed half made, things lay in the way, hallways lead nowhere. Eventually they found themselves walking down a stone stairway, Monique had the torch going once more, as the lights from the previous rooms didn't stretch this far. They descended in silence, each lost in their own thoughts as they travelled the seemingly endless staircase. Kari shivered, she noticed the temperature had dropped quite considerably, and her arms were rippled with goosebumps. Monique walked slightly ahead, shining the torch along the ground to provide them a safe path. Suddenly the stairs ended. They found themselves on a hard, cold stone floor – and though they couldn't see, they both sensed the enormity of space around them.

The torch light was growing dimmer. In her haste she'd forgotten the crucial thing – to check the batteries. They had come completely unprepared, Monique shook her head at the naivety of it. The darkness seemed to be taking over, the cold hand of fear tickled at the hairs on the back of her neck. She shined the torch to her right, catching a glimpse of Kari, and reached out and took her hand. Kari willingly grasped her hand, suddenly this all seemed very frightening, not too mention she had the nagging feeling of wondering how they'd get out of there. So they decided to keep going straight, even as the stone path intersected with another that crossed them – giving them the option of going left and right, they stayed on their path. The air was cool and still, giving the feeling of being in a museum on a cold winters morning. There was a slight mustiness, or staleness to the air, like when you opened up your house for the first time after being on holiday for a few weeks – the air inside hadn't been circulated for sometime. They were surrounding by cold, nondescript stone on all sides, long (now slightly downward sloping path) stretching before them, huge walls of stone to their left and right. It reminded Monique of a crypt. She shivered at that, pushing the thought from her mind. So the two of them walked along the path hand in hand, descending further into the cool darkness wordlessly, just the sounds of their own quickly beating hearts to occupy their ears. Monique wanted to suddenly yell, or speak loudly to see what the echo would be like, but was too scared or too in awe to make a sound. As she contemplated asking Kari about whether she should or not – she wasn't given a choice. A violent jolt pulled her arm downward, and a shocked scream escaped both her and Karis lips as Karis hand was suddenly ripped from hers. There was a clatter as the torch dropped from Moniques other hand, and she was plunged into complete blackness. The last second of her high pitched scream reverberated from the walls once more, then died. Monique froze. Paralysed by fear and the sudden realisation that she was now in complete silence, complete darkness and terrifyingly; completely alone.

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Sorry, I didn't realise how long it really was!

Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think! (I spent a fair bit of time on this chapter, so let me know I'm not alone here!)

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More drama to come. Please stick around.


	6. Cold and Monumental

Thankyou for the kind reviews! I hope you're all still with me.

I also hope that cliff-hanger on the chapter before actually did something..?

Please continue…

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(_This story may have to change location… see bottom of page for details)_

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**Chapter 5: **

COLD AND MONUMENTAL

"Kari?" Monique whimpered. As Monique had expected, there was no reply. Moniques heart beat raced, and her breathing became laboured. She was hyping herself into a nearly full blown panic attack. She was so scared, the darkness seemed to be finding it's way inside her mind. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to fight the paralysing fear, forcing herself to move. First thing was to find the torch, and then work out what had happened to Kari; she didn't really know where to begin with that, but she knew she wasn't anywhere in the walkway with her. Slowly, gingerly she crouched towards the ground, reaching her hands out before her, searching the cold, rocky surface for the torch. She pulled one hand close to her face, even a few centimetres from her eyes she couldn't make out it's shape. She sighed and resumed her search of the ground, crawling forwards slowly, wincing as her knees became scratched from the uneven surface and her hands swinging wide arcs before her, searching blindly. Her already sore hand (from the door incident) smacked against the wall in her haste, she swore bitterly to herself, then let her hand slide down the wall, and there she felt it. The reassuring feel of plastic. She nearly screamed for joy, as she shuffled closer and wrapped her hand around it. In that moment she loved the torch so much, she clung to it like the safety line it was. She gave a smile as a beam of light broke the darkness, and got to her feet, sweeping the torch around her. There was absolutely no sign of life, just endless stone. Sadly she headed back towards where she thought she had been when Kari had suddenly been ripped from her. She eyed the high walls, searching out the ceilings, but they were too high to be seen. The place was grand, a feat of design – but was to cold and monumental to be inviting. Suddenly a thought popped into her mind, and she directed the torch downward, scanning it across the ground before her, leaning closer so she could study it better. She frowned painfully, then took a gasp of breath and held it, she closed her eyes pointlessly in the inky blackness, and gripped the torch tighter. Without a second thought she leant her weight onto the bricks before her, and as she had expected - they gave way beneath her and she was falling.

Despite consciously deciding to hold her breath, she let it out, gave a scream and then in a split second held it once more. Within an instant she was entirely consumed, the icy bitterness of water not exposed to sunlight bubbled around her as she struggled to breach it's murky surface. She gasped for air, gasping and spluttering and pushing her hair from her eyes with one hand as she bobbed at the surface, her legs working hard beneath her. "WHERE WERE YOU!" a hysterical voice screamed behind her. Despite not being able to see Monique turned around towards the direction the voice had come from, "KARI! Are you okay?" she started an odd doggy-paddle towards her disembodied voice. "I guess." She replied, hardly committed to her reply.

Monique lifted the torch from the water and pushed it on once more, it flickered sadly, then resumed it's job of lighting the way. Kari looked like a startled deer in the headlights, she was against one wall, hanging on to some form of grill-like gate, that descended into the water, It wasn't a flood gate as it had a trellis formation, and Karis hands were holding onto it tightly; a lot of her body was out of the water, obviously she was standing on something too. Monique swam for her, then grabbed the gate in her free hand, "What the hell happened?" Monique breathed hard.  
"One minute I was walking, next minute the ground gave out beneath me." Her voice quivered, they were both amped with adrenaline flowing through their bodies. "This gate doesn't go down that far, when I was just floating here my feet were beyond the bottom of it, so I pulled myself to stand up on it."  
Monique nodded, and pulled herself a little closer and upward, her feet searching for holes to slip into. She found them and was now only in the water up to her waist, which wasn't so frightening as being up to her neck.

"It's a trapdoor. This is one of his traps! To keep the prying eyes of the cruel world away from his sanctum!" Kari suddenly said excitedly.  
Monique looked at her curiously, despite their tragic predicament, the shock, the cold and the not knowing what they were going to do – she was excited! She seemed optimistic. Monique couldn't believe it. She was so lucky she had Kari here, otherwise she would have cracked into madness.

Before Monique could respond Kari grabbed the torch from her hand, shining it across the water, up to the ceiling which wasn't so far away, with a gate, identical to the one they were standing on balanced ominously above their heads. They both knew what that was for, so Kari moved the torch light off it quickly. "God, I hope that doesn't come down." Monique whispered in morbid horror. Kari didn't respond, instead she continued to search the walls with the pale amber torchlight. Monique released her left hand from the gate, it throbbed with a low, deep, dull ache to it's bones from the door, the wall and the drama of falling to the murky water she was now waist deep in. "My hand-"

"Look!" Kari suddenly interjected.

Monique looked at what the torch was illuminating, some form of metallic handles protruding from the stone on the furtherest wall of their watery jail, Monique tilted her head and it clicked. They weren't bizarre handles, they were rungs of a ladder. A ladder that would lead them out of there.

"Go." Monique gestured with her head, and Kari bravely, without hesitation pushed off from the gate and breast stroked towards the wall. Monique waited for her to get close to wall before following suit.

Kari grabbed one metal rung, and by kicking against the wall found a lower one to place her feet on. She began a slow descent up the 'ladder', water raining down from her clothes and hair as she climbed. As soon as there was space Monique began her climb, she hated being in the murky water alone, not knowing what could possibly be beneath her. Monique stared intently at the rungs as she climbed, then took a glance upward. Kari was gone. Just as Monique was about to click into panic mode, the torchlight and Karis face appeared down at her, she was leaning over an edge. Hurriedly Monique climbed and pulled herself up over the stone ledge, scratching her raw knees once more. This was turning out to be more than just exploring, it was a full on test of courage, strength and ability to withstand detriments to the body.   
Kari shone the torchlight around their new surroundings, back on dry stone once more. More corridors, alcoves and cellars stretched before them, Kari sighed at the enormity of the task. They two girls pulled themselves to their feet, their clothes completely sodden. Monique reached up and grabbed her long ponytail of golden hair, she wrung it out, sending more water to the floor, Kari passed her the torch and wrung out her own long rope of curly chocolate hair. Monique shone the torch around some more, searching for inspiration, hoping for insight. She studied their surroundings in the dim light, which was proving to be a reasonably hard task, each time she moved the torch away from an area she'd swear she saw some movement – but of course, upon returning the light to the area, there was nothing. 'Where would it make sense to go?' Monique wondered to herself, then stopped. 'This is a labyrinth, it's not supposed to make sense. So, then, where would it not make sense to go?' she thought, sweeping the torch light around as they began to walk, following the 'path' forward, where it soon met an intersection of other paths. Monique turned her thoughts over in her head, digging beneath them for inspiration. Then she spotted it. A crumbling stair case against a far wall… that lead nowhere. The staircase just stopped. It didn't reach another floor… there was no platform. Just a staircase with one edge running up against the wall, so that upon reaching the top one could fall right over the edge into nothingness. It made absolutely no sense. "This way." Monique cried, and walked faster towards the architectural oddity.   
"What? That!" she gestured towards the staircase. Monique nodded and began to climb. Her footing slipped a few times, "Be careful some of the stones are really loose." She called behind her as she made her way carefully towards the top.

Kari fumbled along behind her, "So… whats the brainwave here?" she sounded somewhat mocking.  
"I'm going for another trapdoor… or a… long fall to the bottom…" she threw back.

"Ahh, nice." Kari replied.

Monique reached the second most upper step and stopped. Gingerly she reached out with one foot and placed it lightly on top of the slight widening at the top. She dragged her foot around across the surface applying pressure, she moved it around in circles. Nothing. She sighed with frustration, then funnelled her frustration into her foot and pushed harder. And then she felt the floor give. "Oh, yes. Another trap door." She grinned.  
Kari laughed behind her, "Watch out dear Erik, we're onto you." She murmured.  
Monique moved her foot from the trap, then turned and sat on the very edge of the step, she swivelled so her legs were directly above the moveable portion and pushed them downward, displacing the trapdoor. It moved inward allowing her legs entrance into whatever lay below. She inched herself forward, bracing herself with her arms she gently lowered herself down through the hole.   
Kari suddenly had a horrible thought – what if there was no floor close below her? What if she fell… and fell to her death?  
She was just about to vocalise a warning when Monique disappeared. There was a slight shriek and an 'ooomph' a long pause and finally, "I'm okay. It's just a little bit of a drop, can you chuck down the torch?" she called up. Kari inched forward and placed one arm deep though the trapdoor, angling the torch down she let it go. Monique caught it and angled it upward so Kari could have light for her descent.

Soon too, she dropped through without drama and they were together once more. It was now even cooler in their new surroundings. Monique wondered how far below the opera house they were, it scared her to imagine all those floors of heavy finery above them.

Monique shone the torch in front of them, revealing what looked like a 'window' in the stone wall of the relatively small niche they had descended into. She passed the torch to Kari, and took a running leap at the wall, using one foot to launch herself further up and grabbed the bottom of the 'window'. With help from Kari below her she hoisted herself up through the gap and onto a stone ledge. The torch afforded her the view of a wide stone passageway, the lead downward. She placed the torch on the ledge, "I'll help you up." She called down to Kari.

Kari ran at the wall too, and her hands appeared in the 'window sill', Monique grabbed one hand and started to pull. With her help Kari made it onto the ledge safely. When Kari glimpsed downward sloping aisle, she got up excitedly, "Come on." She grabbed the torch and climbed a couple of steps up into the passageway. Monique followed her, and they began an easy descent following the passageway that began to spiral. They walked silently for a few minutes, going ever downward, Monique reached out and took Karis hand once more. This time it was less for fear, and more for excitement. Suddenly the aisle narrowed dramatically, it was a stone bridge, only wide enough for one person to walk along, it appeared to be nearly 20 feet long. Kari took the lead, still holding Moniques hand behind her, and lead them across the bridge slowly, their shoes were still damp and slippery, and the rocks were uneven and unpredictable. The bridge widened out once more to continue it's downward spiralling passageway, their pace quickened once more, rounding bend after bend. And then, after rounding another seemingly endless bend, the slope steepened for about 10 feet, then gradually levelled off… meeting the water. Kari was walking so fast she was almost jogging at this point, the torchlight bounced up and down with their momentum as they got closer to the water.

Kari shone the torch around the waters edge. "Oh.." she muttered, dropping Moniques hand.  
Monique knew what that 'oh' was about, when she got to the waters edge. There was no boat.

The beam of light climbed the arch way over the waters edge, then stopped about halfway up the wall – a large ornate brass hook protruded from a large stone. Moniques jaw slackened and she reached out and touched it's smooth cold surface, "…Ohh.." she breathed, marvelling at it.

"That's what I think it is… isn't it?" Kari spoke lowly.  
Monique nodded absently.  
"For anchoring the boat too." Kari added unnecessarily, and Monique nodded once more unnecessarily.

"Keen for a swim?" Monique quipped, letting her hand fall from the brass hook.  
"Why not?" Kari shrugged, smiling. The torch light flickered, and disappeared. Before the girls could react it flickered to life once more, but seemed even fainter now.   
"Let's hurry." Monique stepped toward the water, swallowing her fear of the black water she let it encompass her ankles for a second, then, grabbing Karis hand once more, they began to walk forward, the cool black water climbing high on their legs, then gradually reaching their waists, and further up to their chests – and it seemed it would continue to climb. Their toes could barely touch the floor, so they let go of each others hands and began to swim breast stroke.   
"Don't swallow the water." Monique suddenly warned.  
"Not that I want to, but why?" Kari asked.  
Monique tilted her head as if shrugging, "Who knows where it's source is, technically it could be a bacteria haven." She responded.  
"Thanks. I'm so glad you told me that." Kari responded sarcastically.

The torch continued to work faintly beneath the water, giving them a beacon to follow. Monique wondered how deep the water was, as they passed along the very tops of stone arches, barricaded by more grille style gates – they had to be in significantly deep water. The thought of what else may be in the water, what lay beneath them and any potential obstacles in the water filled her with a squeamish fear, so she swam faster, desperate to find land once more. They stroked along the murky canal, for sometime, heading the only way the canal lead, by now they were becoming short of breath as they worked hard beneath the water. They had no option, and no heart for anything other then to push on. The walls seemed to get over onward, and they swam for sometime – until finally they saw a wall up ahead. Had they reached a dead end?

Kari stole a glance at Monique, "Dunno." Monique, already knowing what Kari would ask. They swam on, it was slow progress having to swim the canal rather then taking a punt. The dead end grew closer, and closer. Monique whimpered pitifully, imagining have to swim back to where they'd come from, but then the wall to their left broke – and they swam beneath a much higher arch, where the passageway suddenly opened up into a huge wide expanse.

Monique gasped, without thinking and sucked some water into her mouth. She spluttered, coughed and gasped some more as she tried to rid the foul liquid from her lips.

Kari stopped swimming, and bobbed in the water, her eyes staring straight ahead.  
"Oh my god." She murmured.

Ahead of them a huge grille gate covered the large expansive stone arch way that lead further into a darkened vault. With renewed vigour they swam forward, increasing their pace now. Monique reached the gate a few moments before Kari and grabbed onto it, holding herself up. Kari grabbed onto it also with one hand, she shone the torch forward, but it's light was so weak it didn't penetrate the darkness enough to afford them a view of what lay ahead. She reached forward with her feet to find a gap to put her feet into to hold herself up, but found none. She pulled herself upward with her arms, and continued searching for a foot hold. Her feet met nothing.  
"This gate doesn't go down very far! We can get underneath it!" She called excitedly.  
Monique grimaced, that meant they'd have to dive into the canals hidden depths. She pressed her body towards the gate, it stopped just below her hips. "Yeah it finishes about a metre below the surface." Monique replied. Kari shone the torch on the area of water on the other side of the gate in front of Monique, "You go."

Monique grimaced in the darkness, then thought of what lay beyond the gate. Why would she let fear hold her back, why had she let fear slow her down. This could be it. This could be his lair.

Excitement replaced the fear in her veins and she took a deep breath, and grabbed the gate firmly then used it to push herself downward in the water. She used her hands along the gate to 'climb' her way down in the water. When she reached the bottom of the gate, she felt her shoe touch against stone. The floor lay approximately 2 metres below the surface. She pulled herself under the gate then kicked upward and broke the surface into the small yellow glow of the torch.  
She grabbed onto the gate, and took the torch from Kari, "the ground is about 2 metres below us." She commented, then Kari disappeared beneath the water, she surfaced a few moments later beside her.  
They held onto the gate a moment and caught their breath, then using the gate as a wall pushed off from it and began swimming in earnest, the small beam of the torch guiding them once more.

They swam with vivacity, remaining side by side, but egging each other on to go faster. "Oh.." Kari exclaimed as her foot struck the ground beneath her, she swam forward with just her arms, and soon her feet touched the ground.  
Monique joined her, shining the weak torch ahead of them as they walked laboriously through the water, which began to unveil their tired bodies, from waist height, then to around the thighs. The water stayed approximately thigh height for a few metres as they battled through the water, occasionally slipping on the stone beneath their feet, probably covered in algae. They trudged on, and soon the water began to descend down their legs once more, it finally reached knee height and then they clambered out of it's slimy murkiness. Monique leaned over her legs, taking deep breaths to fill her lungs and return her heart to a more normal heart rate. Kari grabbed Moniques arm, lifting it to lift the beam of the torch, and they both gasped. The torch only gave enough light to give an effect of twilight, perhaps making the surroundings even more awe causing. Just a couple of feet in front of them, lay a long line of grande, extravagantly designed candelabras, stretching as far as they could see along a small ledge of stone, that was draped with a thick luxurious looking fabric. There was a small break in the line of candelabras (that actually appeared more to be forming a circle around some sort of altar), it was a couple of bare stone steps, lined by more candelabras bearing long slender candles. The torch light wavered as Moniques body swayed in shock a moment. She forced herself to think straight, "OH MY GOD!" she shrieked and ran for the stairs, jumping up two at a time. "OH MY GOD!" she shrieked once more, as Kari followed behind her, seeing the torch light faintly framing Moniques body from in front of her. Monique was frozen, her head seemingly bowed in reverence. A wave of fear washed over Kari, as she imagined what Monique was staring at. She hurried up beside her, "Oh my god…" she breathed, her eyes gazing downward, the expression on her face was almost of pain. There before them, surrounded by more breath-takingly ornate candelabras was an organ. And on it's right corner, was a stone sculpture of a man from his shoulders upward, a black sheath of material tied across his forehead. And there, beneath the sheath… a white mask.

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Thankyou for reading! Sorry if it seems to have taken so long to get down to the lair, but I really wanted to take you all on the journey down there.  
Please review and let me know what you think. : )

**PLEASE NOTE – I AM MOVING THIS STORY TO THE BOOK SECTION.**

**From the main page – select BOOK, and there is a category for PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. I think this story should best live there – where there is actually a category and dedicated readers and writers to this specific type of phanphiction**. _Please stay with me and visit at the book section! (If you wish put me on your alert list to be notified of updates)_


	7. Tears and Fears

**A/N: **Thanks for your reviews. Please continue to leave them. I hope this chapter keeps you coming back. :)

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**Chapter 6:**

TEARS AND FEARS

Karis jaw dropped, her head swam and legs trembled, partly from exhaustion, partly from shock – she almost felt as though she might faint. She turned to glance at Monique, she was still frozen, almost trance like, gazing at the stone sculptures partially obscured face; in the pale light Kari saw perfect tears sliding slowly, passively, down Moniques cheeks, who appeared to not know they were there. Monique reached out with hand, and slowly traced her fingers along the mask, exhaling audibly, her face still set in a trance. Kari watched, somewhat frightened, somewhat intrigued. Moniques fingers trailed so slowly over the pristine mask, it was almost as if they wouldn't leave it, but her eyes lifted as she observed the surroundings once more. They were in his – Eriks – settlement, a beautifully crafted, gothic bits-and-pieces design, lots of heavy luxurious fabrics, large opulent candelabras, some gilded, some heavy and black; all ornate. Monique took another set of steps down from the right of the organ pipe, and a strangled sound of surprise and sadness escaped her lips. Kari unhanded the manuscript before her and hurried over to where she had heard Monique. She had headed down towards the very right edge of the so-called island, with it's murky harbour stretched out before them. Kari paused when she spotted Monique, she was stood before several large mirrors, all smashed in several places, shattered glass lay around and under her feet. Large hot tears streamed down her cheeks. Now, she was actively crying, not a passive ebb of tears, but actually sobbing as she trailed her hands down either side of the elaborately pattered frames of the mirror as she wept, not for the destruction, but rather, for the pain _behind_ the destruction. Kari took the steps slowly and came to stand by Monique, she wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and both girls stood entranced by the shattered mirrors – their hearts moved to forbidding levels of despair for a man they had never known.

After some mourning moments spent before the shattered mirrors, they ascend the stairs, moved past the pipe organ and descended the stone steps to the left of the prominence that displayed the organ pipe in all it's glory. A small stone path from these steps lead past more shattered mirrors, some partially and some fully concealed by thick lush red velvet curtains. They moved silently past, this time not stopping to shed tears. They came to a curtain enshrouded… cubicle of some sort. Monique guiltily pulled aside one section of the curtain, it was heavy and smooth in her hand, but smelt musty. It was a dressing room of some description, or was it a wardrobe? It was hard to tell, there were some clothes hung on racks within it, but in the dim torchlight, which was now labouring even more, it was hard to see them well. Monique let the curtain fall closed, and they continued on, threading through more candelabras, some short, some with long stands, that placed them taller then here, some were wide with many openings for candles, with others were narrower and multi-tiered. Monique closed her eyes, imagining the place with all the candles lit, she saw the warm amber flames, slightly flickering with a gentle breeze drifting along the water causing shadows to dance on the walls and ceiling of the stone cavern. She smelt the slow burn of wax, and the residual smell of phosphorous from a previously lit match. It was beautiful, gothic, dark, romantic, sensual… her eyes flickered behind their soft lids and she suddenly opened them. There were no candles lit, only the persistent darkness, and a rapidly fading torchlight that was only helpful for their immediate circumference. If she had let her rational mind do the thinking, she'd have been on the verge of a panic attack, two girls, alone, with nothing but a near-useless torch underneath 20 stories of the lavish Opera de Pallisade. But she was content to subject herself the whim of her imagination and idealistic desires. She envisaged the candle lit cavern once more, trying to find Him in her mind. She imagined his cloak trailing behind him as he climbed the stairs behind her, an intense gaze on his face as he toyed with notes in his head, and then he would pause, a wanton look passing through each eye as he closed in on her from behind. Quiet as a cat, he would find her and embrace her possessively from behind, his hands running slowly over her, one at her waist, the other trailing across her shoulders and down her arms, to finally catch one hand in his own. With grace unmatched he managed to swap their positions, and lead her slowly behind him, occasionally glancing back to ensnare her eyes. His footsteps slowed, then stopped all together when they found themselves in a dark, almost other-worldly room, standing entranced beside the wings of a great bird. The swan bed. His eyes fixated on hers.

Monique gasped, and opened her eyes once more, her chest rising and falling quickly, her eyes darted around furtively. Kari looked across at her bewildered friend, completely confused – this place was doing strange things to her. Monique froze, quite dramatically as she looked to her right, somehow amidst an encompassing daydream she had managed to navigate her way to bedroom… of the swan bed.

Kari sank down greatfully into the softness of the bed, she let out a sigh of relief, she was exhausted. She ran one hand slowly across the top velveteen sheet, her eyes fluttered closed as her hand slowed, enjoying the sensual soft feeling of velveteen between her fingers. Her fingers reached a layer of silk, and the soft feeling was devoured by her weary hands. She observed her hand slowly sliding up the thin layer of white silk, and exposed skin. Her hand paused a moment, at the skin, a deep 'V' of well toned chest, set between a silk shirt frame. Her hand continued slowly, and her eyes raised to meet His absorbing gaze. His eyes burned on hers, and he exhaled slowly, his eyes closing a moment, then opening once more as her hand traversed his skin, paused at his neck, then reached for his face. His lips parted, if nothing else had been invitation enough…

Kari sat up suddenly, and Monique jumped from fright across the room, knocking a heavy candelabra to the ground. She rounded to look at Kari, who was sat up straight on the bed, as if she been jolted with an electric shock – her chest heaved, and she looked up at Monique almost guiltily.   
"What?" Monique asked, frowning – she had her own guilts and fears to worry about.  
Kari shook her head, "I… I feel asleep." She muttered, then got up off the bed. This place was doing strange things to her.

Monique raised one eyebrow at Kari – maybe she had felt it too, the sense that although they couldn't see him (or anyone else for that matter) anyway, that they weren't technically alone down here. Kari reached up with one hand, grasping a tasselled rope that hung just above the bed, for no reason it seemed, until she tugged it. Slowly a black lace curtain descended from the stone ceiling of the bedroom cavern, and surrounded the bed. Monique grinned at the shadow of Kari she could see through the curtain, "That's a neat trick."

Kari tugged the rope once more and the curtain slowly raised once more, Kari grinned cheekily at Monique.

Monique snorted and shook her head, "I'm gonna see what else there is…" she turned and descended the stairs once more, walking a narrow stone path, passing the partially obscured shattered mirrors once more. She paused and looked at her reflection distorted by the cracks, the torchlight glinted off the shards, spreading a bit of light, and slowly lifted the heavy curtain from obscuring the top of it's frame. She smiled, and her fractionated reflection disjointedly follow, the frame was engraved with Angels and chubby cherubs, she moved to lift another curtain and saw Karis bizarre reflection join hers from behind.  
Kari sighed, "Such a shame… they're so beautiful." She ran her fingers along the perfect engravings on the frame.

"I can't believe everything is still in reasonable condition… I mean.. it's been over one hundred years right?" Monique replied, as she pushed the curtain from the next mirror, this one was engraved with gothic gargoyles and intertwining thorned roses, beautiful, but in a melancholy kind of way.

"Well, this place has been sealed, away from sunlight, away from circulating air. It's sorta like a giant cooled store room."

"Yeah, I guess it's prevents the oxidation." Monique added.

They continued lifting heavy velvet drapes from the tops of mirrors to unveil more and more beautifully ornate carvings in the gilded framework, each one almost more beautiful then the previous one.

Suddenly Monique paused, not the usual 'ooh' and 'aah' of appreciation at the craftsmanship. Kari looked over at her, seeing her hesitation she walked towards her, "What's the –" she stopped short. The mirror had been completely smashed out, not a single piece of glass remained in it's frame. And instead of being an sad, empty shell – it was a doorway.  
Monique turned to catch Karis eyes, but she said nothing, she didn't need to – her eyes, beneath the shock, said it all.  
With a short moments hesitation and a quick breath she stepped into the frame, then disappeared through it. Kari took a cursory look over her shoulder, then stepped through the frame also. They had found another, seemingly hidden room. This room was narrower and longer then the previous ones, and they encountered a table loaded with what was revealed to be manuscripts and musical scores in a flowing cursive script. Kari took the torch from Monique, and held it in one hand while she ran her fingers across the music, as if absorbing it by osmosis, she seemed enchanted by the journey of the notes from bar to bar. Monique pushed on further into the room, staying along the faint beam of light still projecting from the torchlight. She paused, finding another dressing/storage area, curtained off with more heavy velvet drapes, she took a quick look then let the curtain fall closed shutting it off once more. Then did a double take, and peeked inside once more. Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip, taking a glance over her shoulder at Kari – she was still absorbed in the music, as if she could hear it playing in her head. Monique felt a pang of guilt as she reached up and pulled the heavy black material from it's hook, but she couldn't resist, there wasn't a single bone in her body urging her to. It was heavy, much heavier then she had expected as she released the draping material from it's curtained prison of 100 years. She inspected it close up, moving closer to the beam of light and smiled, with another guilty glance at Kari, she swung the material round then allowed the cape to settle across her shoulders, doing up a clip across her neck to hold it in place. She beamed childishly; who didn't want to play with a huge black cape? She grabbed the edges of the cape and pulled them up and out to the sides, Count Dracula like, and let out a low evil laugh. The torchlight wavered and Kari gasped, then realised that it was Monique being an idiot in the darkness. "Nice threads." She muttered dryly.

Monique emitted another evil laugh, and fluttered the cape around her, "I love this thing." She declared, fondling the heavy material. "Come on… lets go further in, I need some light." She called, not having any thoughts of removing the cape.  
Kari put down the score she had been observing and headed towards Monique, running the torch light across the walls, the narrow shape of the room helped contain the torch light better – and it was slightly easier to see here.

They ventured further still, and decided to place the torch on a small outcropping of stone, to shine further into the cave so they could explore independently. They each took one side, and perused through more candelabras, various objet de arts, and more velvet drapery. Kari paused frequently inspecting beautiful objects, things she was certain would be priceless memorabilia of the theatres early days.  
Monique pressed on still, various objects caught her eye, tugged at her curious side, but she forced herself to continue on.

Kari picked up a small golden statue of an Egyptian Sphinx, it seemed so out of place, but so right all the same, she was about to call Moniques attention to it when she heard a high pitched scream.

Forgetting her wonder at the objet de art she ran at almost a sprint towards the sound of the scream. As she closed in on Monique she could hear her laboured breathing, ragged gasps drawing in and out of her heaving chest, the heavy cape around her quivered, she seemed to be having a panic attack. Karis chest constricted in fright as she ran forward faster, placing a hand on Moniques shoulder in an attempt to calm her down. But she didn't turn, didn't even acknowledge the hand only stared straight down, still in the throes of some kind of hysteria. "Mon…." she trailed off, when her eyes gazed downwards also. Her heart practically stopped, then decided it was in a race against time and beat triple time, it felt like it was going to come out of her chest. "Oh God…" she gasped. Another bed made from some form of stage scenery, resembling a carriage, or sleigh lay before them. And on it… a partially masked man. Laying quietly, serenely. Eyes closed. Unmoving. Dead? Alive? Real? Or Imagined?  
Monique sunk to the floor, but Kari stared on. That white half-mask, an exact copy of the one they had found on the sculpture on the piano, covered the right upper part of the mans face.

"Is he dead?" a choked whisper came up from the floor.

It pulled Kari from her shock, and she looked closer. Slowly, his chest rise and fell. Kari felt her head swimming, her body swaying – she gripped onto the side of the sleigh-come-bed to prevent herself from fainting.   
"No.." she breathed. "He's breathing…. Sleeping?" she pondered.  
Moniques head popped up over the side of the bed and she looked at him curiously. Awe… wonder filled her face. Laced with fear and above all else. Kari got the feeling that up until this time Monique had been wandering through the lair as if it was some Disney amusement – not fully realising it was real. Until she had seen the body… the person.

"It's… him. It's him. Oh my god … IT'S HIM!" She shrieked, her scream so loud it echoed and reverberated from the walls and descended back on them like an attacking bird of prey.

Kari jumped, but He, didn't stir.

A pained cry came from Monique "… Ohh…. He's so beautiful…" she stared at him.

Kari nodded mutely, all the while wondering what he would think? This man who felt so helplessly ugly he exiled himself from the world and hid his face beneath a mask being called beautiful. Just another of the strange things about them she presumed.

Monique reached out with hand towards him, "Ohh…" she sighed again, peeking over the bed still, she slowly raised to her feet and stared down at him.

Kari watched, completely absorbed in the situation but she felt paralysed, like she couldn't move even if she wanted to.  
Monique leaned closer to him, "I knew you were here." She whispered to him, as if he could hear, then slowly reached down and with her left and touched his shoulder – the soft feeling of waistcoat, and the silk scarf around his neck delighted her fingertip, she was so absorbed in the feel she almost missed it – the sudden flicker of eyelids. His eyes had snapped open. And he was staring directly at her.

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Thanks for reading guys!  
Umm… I hope you're still with me… and that you will stay with me – not that this is starting to get somewhere…? I hope it was a cliffy for ya.  
Please, (pretty please with all sorts of goodness on top) review.


	8. The Proletarians and the Gentleman

**A/N: **Thankyou for your encouraging reviews, please continue to let me know what you think!

So… they found him… :)

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**Chapter 7:**

THE PROLETARIANS AND THE GENTLEMEN

'_His eyes had snapped open. And he was staring directly at her.'_

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Moniques jaw dropped in a silent gasp, her lower lip quivered and she stared back into the pale eyes that burned on hers. Kari stared at him also, her heart was suddenly a race horse she feared might collapse from exhaustion. She had only ever felt fear this intense once before in her life – when she had been involved in a car accident. Suddenly Kari wished they had planned this whole 'phantom finding excursion' much better. Had they really expected to find him? And if so, what were they then going to do? Just bowl on up 'Oh, Hi Phantom. How are you? Umm… so it's like a 100 years since that whole Christine-obsessiveness inspired killing spree-thing you went on – so we're sorta hoping you're over that. But anyway, we thought we'd pop over, see how you were doing, rummage through your stuff, get a cup of tea or something'. Kari racked her brains, what would they do if some… trouble arose? No one knew they were here, he could probably overpower them both if he wanted to – and they had nothing to even defend themselves with. No weapons, nothing.

Movement pulled Kari out of her ranting thoughts. Monique gasped, audibly this time. He had grabbed her hand, and she couldn't move away from him.   
"Who are you? WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" he growled fiercely, he had pushed himself to sit up now.  
Monique didn't answer, just stared at him blankly from wide fear/awe filled eyes.  
Kari saw him squeeze her hand harder, staring at her demandingly. "ANSWER ME!" He roared, giving a quick yank on her arm, she flopped around like a rag doll.

Monique said nothing, just stared back at him – she had begun to look like a wax model, frozen in time. His eyes flared, "Are you mute!" he demanded, squeezing her hand even more. Finally she gave a cry of surprise and pain combined, he had her already twice injured hand in his firm grasp. He threw her hand from him and suddenly got to his feet, then disappeared from Moniques frozen eyes. She snapped out of the trance, and her eyes moved downward, he was sprawled on the ground. Inappropriately she gave a snort of laughter, and a small giggle played on her smiling lips. Kari turned to Monique with a look of disbelief on her face, "What the hell is WRONG with you?" she exclaimed.

Moniques smile disappeared slowly, she was too shocked to think coherently.

Slowly he moved to his feet once more, leaning back against the side of the sleigh-bed, he had awoken in a daze, confused. How could he still be alive? He was certain he was meant to be dead… but nonetheless, here he was standing before two very real, but strange looking humans… not spirits or demons of the afterlife. Perhaps he had slept for a long time… maybe a very long time, for his legs had been numb and given out on him. But now he felt his body awakening.

"What are you doing here?" he spoke in a low, even, menacing tone, looking between them. "And why are you wearing my cloak?" he cocked his head to one side looking at Monique, "And you… " he turned to Kari, "Put my statue DOWN." He growled, eyeing the Sphinx she had forgotten was still in her hands.

Kari immediately dropped the sphinx onto the bed and took a step backwards.  
Monique didn't move, so his eyes turned to regard her once more. His visible eyebrow lifted in a condescending manner, demanding an answer to his question.

"Uhh… 'cos it's a bit cold down here." She answered, making no more to take it off. Kari almost laughed from disbelief. Why couldn't she react like a normal human being and take it off, apologising profusely?

His eyes narrowed at her.   
"And… I well, I thought it was cool…" she picked up one side of the cloak and flapped it around.   
Kari brought one hand to her head and rubbed at her temples, her stress levels hitting maximum.

"You have already explained your temperature worries… but you have not answered my question." He replied, his voice was quiet but held a definite note of threat to it.  
Monique grinned, "No.. I mean, yeah it's cold, but I mean I thought the cape was cool… like, I really like it. It's slang." She explained.   
Kari gripped at her temples. Any second the Phantom would pounce at Monique and all sorts of terror could ensue. And there she was calmly giving him a 21st century linguistics lesson. It was almost more then she could stand.

Finally Monique sighed, "Fine, if it's that much of a problem I'll take it off." She grumbled and undid the clip across her throat, then pulled the cloak off and held the cape out to him.

It all happened in a moment. His hands grabbed at the cloak, pulled her in, and now he held her captive. The cloak was pulled across her throat, holding her hard up against him, and unable to escape. Moniques face paled, and Kari pondered that was perhaps the moment she realised they were in serious trouble.

"WHY ARE YOU HERE? WHY CAN'T YOU PEOPLE JUST LEAVE ME!" he roared, and Monique flinched, trying to lean her ear away from his yelling.

His eyes darted around, perchance had he left a Punjab lasso within arms reach? No… unfortunately, it appeared he had not. Seeing neither of them had spoken, he yanked the cloak tighter across Moniques throat, and she gave a strangled cry, now becoming seriously worried.

"We.. uhh, we came here to look for you. We wanted to…" she trailed off, what DID they want to do? Tea and biscuits? No… not a good idea. "We… wanted to talk with you! It's been an almost life long dream to meet you. NO JOKES!" she assured him. He frowned, she was speaking English, but surely it was a primitive dialect. The voice of uneducated proletarians.

Monique took the moments distraction to her advantage and picked up one foot then slammed the heel down onto the toes of his right foot. He gave a cry of surprise and his hands slackened enough for her to drop to the ground and crawl away from him quick time. She then turned to face him once more, standing up and raised her hands up into a fighting position. She regarded him with a very serious expression, "First of all," she paused, taking a breath, "FUCK YOU! No one strangles me and gets away with it. Secondly, I've done Karate, and I'm not afraid to use it. Thirdly… we came down here to find you, because I've read your story and always been intrigued with you – so don't be acting all pissy at me, because maybe I could be the only friend you have. Fourthly, it's like a hundred years since the fire up there, " she gestured upwards, "So I think it's time you built a bridge and got over it! And don't even TRY and take your anger out on me cos I had nothing to do with that shit!" she shouted at him, gesticulating wildly. Kari watched on mortified, she had a wager going on in her head on how long it would take before he would shut her up. "and FIFTHLY, " she added, "Oh my goodness! You're the Phantom of the Opera!" she pointed and bounced up and down, suddenly happy.

Kari groaned, and sank down to the floor. This was not going well.

"ENOUGH!" he suddenly roared and Monique raised her fists back up to fighting stance. He passed his eye over her, this girl who thought she was a boy – speaking in such an uncultured manner, speaking words he had not heard, wearing boys clothing – but the pants were so short they revealed most of the length of her legs, which were browned, most likely from hours of labouring in the sun for wealthy families. The white shirt she wore was soaking, and plastered to her small frame, and now, almost see through, revealing the barest of undergarments. No corsetry or finery to be seen on this poor specimen. The other girl was not much better, her clothes also clung to her body, but her figure was not as boyish, and her shirt not see through, but rather a boyish style. Perhaps the poor rats had come seeking solace from the cruelties of poverty. He turned his attention to Kari, and regarded her seriously, perhaps he could make sense from her. A hundred years? Build a bridge? Was that poor girl-boy child suffering from a mental possession?

"Explain yourself." His voice was gruff, but no longer laced with the hidden threat of 'talk or die', which Kari thought was a nice… relief.

"Look… uhh, Phantom.. you're –"  
He interrupted, "Call me Erik."

"Okay, Erik, you're going to think I'm.. uhh, WE'RE crazy, but in case you haven't realised, it's 2004." She explained, looking to Monique helplessly.

He studied her a moment, unbelieving. Then he laughed, not an appreciative happy laugh, but a condescending 'you're pathetic' kind of laugh.

Monique could stand it no more, "Dude, why aren't you old?" she looked at him confused.  
He looked back to her equally confused. "Why do I not appear aged?"  
Monique nodded.  
He sighed, it was a question he had asked himself from sometime… since he first set eyes on… her… Miss Daae, so he gave her his most oft' dragged up thought. "Maybe I am cursed to roam this Earth forever, to endure the torturous pain of unrequited love and relive the agony of betrayal for all eternity, so I have not aged for the passing of a few years, to ensure my eternity of suffering is not cut short." He spoke, almost to himself.

Kari looked away, 'what a happy fellow' she thought to herself.

"A few?" Monique laughed, "We're not kidding, you know? It's 2004. It's been over a hundred years since you.. uh since the chandelier was dropped. Raoul or Christine wrote about the events at this Opera House, and it was published."

"DO NOT SAY THAT NAME DOWN HERE." He suddenly roared, and Monique jumped back. She shook her head and busied herself with rummaging in her backpack and opened the front compartment, the top pocket hadn't been exposed to the water as much, and was reasonably waterproof –so the inside was only damp. She pulled a somewhat damp copy of 'Le Fantôme de L'Opéra' from the bag and held it out to him.

He eyed her suspiciously, not making a move towards her. Monique sighed in frustration and chucked the book at him. He caught it just before it him, then looked at it with a curiosity he couldn't mask. "Gaston Leroux?" he questioned, reading the front cover then flicking through pages randomly, reading small pieces. His eyes began to change, misting over.

"That's just a pseudonym." Kari spoke up, watching Erik flick through the book.

'How could they know these things?' he wondered to himself, passages described in rich detail conversations and happenings between himself and… her. And described the day that Raoul came to take her away, the day Christine made her choice, and ripped his heart from his chest. He sneered, reading some of the exaggerated words about Raoul, "I'd hardly believe the stupid fop had enough brain to write this, but his delusions of grandeur are too evident for it to be anyone but him." He reasoned allowed.

Monique giggled, so Raoul had written it, and made himself more important in the process.

"So…" he suddenly eyed them both, a coldness moving into his eyes, "What do you think of this doomed tale?" he was sarcastically icy.

Monique tilted her head to the side, then shrugged, "I liked the main character." She smiled up at him.  
Karis jaw dropped, 'Oh my god, was that a flirtatious smile?' she could barely believe it.

"He was strong. Despite what happened to him, despite the rejection and the crippling setback of not having the love of his parents he learned to love. Though no one else had shown him love, he dared to love – to reach inside and find that beautiful part of himself that could humble itself be vulnerable in the search to be loved in return." Moniques smile had disappeared, replaced by a melancholy, sincere expression. Kari knew where the melancholy came from – she was thinking about her own childhood rejection.

Erik stared at her, he hadn't dared to move, he even appeared to be holding his breath.  
Monique sighed, shrugging off her nagging sadness, "But, I thought the ending sucked. I would'a stayed with him." She stared straight up into his eyes.  
Eriks chest rose and fell quickly, and he stared between them. "LEAVE ME!" he suddenly bellowed, then gathered up the cloak Monique had been wearing and swung it around his shoulders, fastening it as he stalked away from them, still carrying the book.

Monique stared after him, shocked once more, but she also looked genuinely offended by his reaction. "What do we do now?" she whispered to Kari.  
Kari sighed, "Group hug?" she deadpanned.  
Monique rolled her eyes. "Come on." She started hurrying after him.

"Erik? ERIK!" she called, running after him. She caught a glimpse of his black cloak as he passed through the mirror frame out into the open once more. She yanked the curtain aside and joined him, he was stalking over to his piano. Monique pressed on, he was not going to get away from her.  
Erik could feel her chasing at his heels, well if she wanted to get close to him… so be it, he thought to himself darkly.

He had slowed and Monique was right behind him, "Erik?" she called softly to him, staring at the back of his head.

Slowly he turned, but quick as lightning he had her. He had grabbed her and pulled her back hard up against him. One arm locked across her waist, the other at her throat. None of this sensual, but rather, serious and threatening. "What is it you want with me?" he hissed into her left ear.  
Monique didn't try to resist him, but let her full weight fall back against him, effectively surrendering to him, giving him no reason to use his strength on her. He felt her body relax against his, and was confused, why wasn't she pleading for her life?  
He tightened his hand around her throat, not putting her in much danger of suffocating, but letting her know he could. She didn't react this time, no flinch, no cries of fear. She wasn't afraid of his power, not afraid of his touch, nor revolted by it. He couldn't understand it – how had she missed seeing the mask that so obviously covered the loathsome carcass that was his face. How could she not be afraid of such a monster before her sight? Then she did something most curious. Instead of struggling, she raised her left arm and reached it up to touch the unmasked side of his face, trailing her finger tips softly down his brow line to his chin. It was his turn to freeze, paralysed by her strange actions.   
With a sudden burst of fear, manifesting itself as anger he released her forcefully, and she fell to the ground before him. She lay on one side, braced by her arms, looking up at him, out of breath, her eyes accusing, not fearful. She glared up at him, "I have read that book 21 times! I have seen the movie based on the book innumerable times. And every time, EVERY time I have wished I could meet you. I know reading a book about a part of your life doesn't mean I know you. I know it gives me no right to come here and interfere with you sleeping away the rest of your wretched life, but I couldn't just ignore the desire to come down here. To finally know… whether you really existed. Whether those awful things really happened to you… and whether you managed to fight off a blackened heart to learn to love." She explained, deeply hurt by his actions towards her.

He stared down at her. This pitiful creature on the ground before him was moving him inside. How dare she do that? How dare she invade his lair and berate him with her hysteric ramblings? He said nothing, so she took it as a free invitation to continue.  
"I can't claim to know exactly what you went through, but I know rejection. My parents never wanted me – and I've never gotten over that. It's left me permanently relationally handicapped. But unlike you who found genius, found beauty in creating music, found love, I have achieved nothing! I play out characters on a stage – involving myself more in their made up lives and pleasing paying audiences then living my own life. Because I don't have the gall to deal with the emotional baggage of reality, I live inside characters, leaving everything on the 'too hard' shelf!" she snapped, finally getting to her feet. "And I don't know if my modern language is confusing you, so let me make it simple. I'm in pain too. Hell, most people are in pain these days. I just wanted to talk to you. To… get to know you. But you're rejecting me. You of ALL people know how that feels, so why are you doing it to me!" she spat, giving him the coldest glare she could muster.  
He stared back at her silently. Thoughtfully. But she couldn't know that – all she saw was impassive silence.  
With a growl of frustration she turned on her heel and hurried away from him.

She jumped down the stone steps and almost collided with Kari. "Come on. Lets go. This was a waste of time." She snapped.  
"Wait." Kari frowned, although she had heard Moniques ranting, she pretended she hadn't, she had never heard her vocalise her pain in such a way before, didn't realise she felt so emotionally inept. Despite a pang of sympathy, she didn't want to be ordered about by her, in fact, she resented her bossiness at times. "Let me talk to him…. I deserve at least that."  
Monique looked away, feeling guilt drive a hard stake into her stomach.  
"Give me some time." Kari asked, then started up the steps.  
Monique acquiesced, and disappeared along the path, up more steps and found herself in the bedroom of the swan bed. She shrugged "Good a place as any." She spoke aloud to herself, then lowered herself onto the plush coverings of the bed, stretching out. She pulled the overhead rope and the curtain of black lace fall down around the bed. Slow as the descent of the lace curtain, a black curtain passed over her heart and it ached immensely. In the solitude, she finally allowed herself to shed the tears she so badly wanted to.

Kari had had much more luck then Monique in dealing with Erik. Perhaps Monique had softened him up, perhaps Kari had better people skills, but whatever the case they had been speaking for some time.

Finally Erik asked the question that had been bugging him for some time, "Why didn't her parents want her?" his unmasked eyebrow moved into a frown. "Aside from her boyish dress she is not disfigured in any way."

Kari almost laughed, "People aren't suspicious about disfigurement anymore. They don't believe it to be some curse from God or the Devil or whatever other forces they believe in. Sure, we're still a relatively superficial society, but it's not such a big deal." She explained, then sighed. "Anyway, it's a bit of a long story, but, her parents met when they were fairly young… at high school and her mother got pregnant with her when they were young, just entered University. And they weren't married or anything."

Erik started attentively, he was seated on his piano stool, but facing away from the keys, towards her; while she perched on a stone ledge, amidst towering candelabras.

"Anyway they stayed together for some time, but her mother, Janine, had to drop out of University when she had Monique, and her father, Robert dropped out to get a job to support her. Their relationship started to fall apart, Monique was basically the only thing holding them together, and holding them back from things they wanted to pursue – so I guess they started to resent her. As soon as possible they started putting her into crèche and day care facilities, and as she got older their relationship got more distant from each other and from her. Finally when Monique was about 8 or they broke off their relationship and they fought over who should have custody of her – but instead of each one fighting for the right to have her, they kept having arguments saying that the other should take her. All the while Monique heard every one of their arguments, every one of their bad words and their resentment towards her. They came to no agreement about who should take her, so she was sent off to boarding school, and returned to either her mother or fathers place on the Christmas Holidays. She saw them for only a couple of weeks each year, she always told me they only took her in because it was compulsory for the students to leave the dorms over Christmas. Over the other holidays, they remained open for the students, so throughout Easter and other holidays, she remained at the boarding school, while her classmates went to Switzerland, Spain, Germany, wherever." Kari sneaked a look up at Erik, he was totally absorbed in the story, his eyes seemed somewhat misted over but transfixed as if he was watching the whole sad affair on a TV screen. "Anyway, over time her parents were both married and were having children with their new partners. Each year got worse. Their 'loved' children, as she called them were mean to her, her parents were cold and indifferent towards her. Robs wife resented her for being illegitimate, and her Janines Husband begrudged her for being a bond between his wife and another man. So she was a total outcast, only there because she had to be. She was miserable the entire time, they got to the point where they didn't even bother to pretend they cared about her. Finally when she was 18, she left the boarding school, graduating with top marks, and commendations for her participations in extra-curricular activities, sports, dance and drama – the school was all she had, so she did a lot while she was there. After a months downtime, in which she visited Paris, no doubt something to do with you-" she snuck a look at Erik, but he wouldn't meet her eyes, "She auditioned for Straata Performing Arts Academy in England –and that's where I met her. Anyway, she called Janine to tell her she had been accepted into the Academy, it's quite a prestigious vocational theatre, and in Moniques words, her and her husband, and Rob and his wife gave her a 'severance package'." Kari shifted her position on the stone ledge.  
"And what do you mean by that?" he inquired.  
"Gave her a lump some of money, and told in her a round about sort of way, not to come back." Kari explained, then rose to her feet.

Erik simply nodded. The story was almost as pathetic as his own. What ever had she meant that this rather strange girl had ventured to Paris 'no doubt something to do with him'?

Kari opened up her own backpack, wondering if there was anything to eat left in there, all she found was chewing gum. She didn't bother offering Erik any, she didn't think he would know what it was. She pulled out the sodden aria score from her bag and lay it on the ground, looking at it forlornly.   
"Could you light a candle? My music is wet." She gestured to it.

Erik disappeared with a flourish of his cape, leaving her alone, but only for a moment. He returned a moment later, carrying one lit candle. He proceeded to light the candles in the many candelabras around the 'room'.

"And then… there was light." Kari whispered in awe as the cavern came to life, details were suddenly visible, the richness and mystery of her surroundings, and dancing shadows on the walls.  
Erik carried a gold candelabra over to her, and placed it beside the score,

"Un bel di vedremo" (Cio-Cio-Sans Aria from Madame Butterfly) he read the title, his eyes ran quickly over the notes. Kari imagined him already singing it in his head.  
"Sing it for me." He suddenly said, it was half command, half question.   
Kari quivered with fear, and something else… wasn't this the very thing she'd dreamed about?  
"I don't know if I sing it that well.." she started making excuses.  
"I will decide that." He announced, though it seemed condescending, his tone was not.

Monique awoke suddenly, the sound of angels filled her ears. She knew it. She'd never made it to the Phantoms lair. She had died on the way. But upon opening her eyes, she realised it wasn't so. The black lace curtain still enshrouded her. She pulled the rope, and the curtain lifted. She pushed herself off the swan bed, heading for the source of angelic music. As she descended the stairs, she was greeted with the sensual ambiance of flickering candlelight, the echoes of singing voices stirred all around her, till she could not be sure where they were coming from – they seemed almost part of the air. She continued toward Eriks piano, but stopped, and stood in the last remaining shadows. Up by the piano Erik and Kari stood together, his hands were on her shoulders, and together they sung. Moniques heart sank, no, dive-bombed into the cold pit of despair in her stomach. She regarded them jealously, as he sung with her, coaxing her to drown him out, and sing the aria with more passion then Monique had heard it that morning. Denied once more, she sank further into the shadows, and sat, hugging her knees to her chest, listening to the sweet torture of their united voices… breaking her heart.

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Hope you're still with me. Please (PLEASE) review, let me know how your going and how you think the story is going. I assure you it will continue to develop.  
Do come back.


	9. Theatre of No Secrets

**A/N:** Thanks heaps for your reviews! They really mean a lot to me. Honestly it really helps me to continue. I can't write without an audience, I rapidly lose heart and just leave a story half done. So thanks a lot. Please do keep reviewing. And YOU! Yes those people who read and don't review… please, I've written so much, please leave a few words… that's all I ask of you.

Just quickly… 

**Amaruk Wolfheart:** Thankyou so much for your encouraging reviews! I like hearing from you, brings a smile to my face and joy to my cramped fingers. I'm glad you said you would stick with me! Oh and thanks heaps for recommending this to a friend! (hug hug kiss kiss) - _Others please note – recommending this story is very favourably looked upon._ : )

**Rio:** Thankyou for your nice reviews too – it meant a lot to me that you reviewed every chapter even as you read it all in one sitting. You rock!

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**Chapter 8:**

THEATRE OF NO SECRETS

"You did it again, you lifted your shoulders again on the last note."  
"I didn't!" Kari protested.  
Erik looked hard at her, he didn't need to say a word. He wanted no argument.

"Sorry, I just…. I had it better the time before." She mumbled.

Erik nodded, "You are tired, we must stop now, before we do your vocal chords some damage."

Kari nodded, "Thankyou… you've shown me so many things in just a short space of time. Seriously, thankyou so much – I'm desperate to get to sing this aria." Kari smiled up at Erik, shifting her weight uncomfortably, she thought he deserved a hug, but didn't know how he'd react, so she stayed where she was.

"You have shown vast improvement in a short space of time, though part of this, is you have much resource to work with," he gestured at her throat.

It was then Monique decided she could stomach it no longer, and came out of the shadows and into the light, she saw Monique smiling shyly, her face half turned down – coy embarrassment… perhaps _flirtatious?_ embarrassment at Eriks comments. Monique walked towards the elevation that housed the piano, and stopped before one of the shattered mirrors.

"Have you got anything to eat?" Monique enquired, looking at Kari.  
Kari shook her head, "Nope, only some chewing gum."

Monique sighed, and ran a hand over her stomach, "I'm hungry." She pouted, then looked into her distorted reflection, leaning closer she saw the slight material burn mark around her neck from Eriks cloak. She turned back to look towards them, and caught Erik quickly turning his head away from her. That gave her a small sense of satisfaction, when he thought she couldn't see him, he had been looking at her.   
"Do you think we should go?" Monique directed to Kari.  
Eriks face turned towards her once more.  
Monique lifted an eyebrow at him, "Of course, with your permission we will return tomorrow." she gazed hard into his eyes.

'Unbelievable.' Kari thought to herself, mentally shaking her head.

Erik pondered on that for a moment. He had been alone for so many years. In fact, mostly his whole life. Only a few people had been allowed down here – in fact, only Antoinette Giry, and Christine had really only been allowed to his lair – however a few others had taken the liberty of invading his sanctum, but he had never had much 'company' before. But here, two young girls had arrived of their own volition, caused a big fuss and now wanted to return to him on their own will. They were taking away his peace, already they were affecting him in strange ways.

Despite his rational mind insisting that he deny them access to his slice of hell – a part of him, that he couldn't quite pinpoint wanted them back. Part of him liked the way his lair felt when occupied by other beings, the echo of voices from the cavernous ceilings, faces alit by soft candlelight. So he found himself saying what he'd hardly expected to, "You are welcome to my humble abode." He bowed his head a moment.  
A grin took over Moniques face, she turned to Kari, and balled up one of her fist, discreetly celebrating their small victory. Kari covered a laugh.   
"Okay, well, Erik, thankyou again for my lesson, we had better go, but we'll see you tomorrow." Kari announced.  
"We can bring you breakfast tomorrow if you want?" Monique offered.  
Erik looked toward her. He still didn't understand how these two strange, but beautiful creatures had failed to notice the mask on his face. Why they hadn't said anything? Why weren't they afraid of him, or revolted by his loathsome appearance. But, no, they didn't turn away, nor draw back from him – in fact, they extended to him a kindness that he was so foreign to him, he was afraid of it. But nevertheless he indulged the offer.  
"Thankyou for your consideration mademoiselle." He replied.

Monique smiled with a hint of satisfaction, "You can call me Monique."

Erik had carried the flat bottomed boat from it's hiding place in the room where they had found him sleeping, along with the long pole he used to push the punt smoothly through the water. They travelled mostly in silence, while Erik guided the boat easily, Monique stared at him, daring not to move, for fear she was upset the balance of the boat. Erik noticed the girl noticing him, but didn't look down at her. Why must she stare? Was she starting to notice the monster he really was? But her stare showed no revulsion. Kari stared out the front of the boat, the two guiding lamps had been lit, and now they were afforded a better view of their surroundings. The immense stone walls the seemed to go upwards forever were interspersed with gargoyle faces, it really was quite creepy.

After they left the boat, Erik guided them along a much easier path to get to the outside world, then the way from which they'd come. He got them out on the first floor of box and circle seating – down the hallway which led to Box 5. He remained in the shadows. "You will come for us tomorrow wont you?" Monique implored.   
Erik felt a very odd sensation well up in him, he couldn't find a name for it, nor a reason. He squashed the emotion, and remained ever impassive, "I will wait for you at this side of the lake."  
"When?" Monique asked.  
"When you arrive." He replied.

"But how will you know?" she ventured.  
He looked quietly confident, "This theatre has no secrets." He replied ambiguously. Kari sighed happily, he seemed so unflappable even when faced with their annoying questions.

Monique raised her eyebrows, "Well I guess you know a lot of things your probably shouldn't then…"  
He gazed at her for a second, feeling all kinds of strange emotions he could barely make sense of. Without his permission he felt his face, his posture and tone change, "Indeed…. More then you think." And totally against his rational intentions, a half smile moved his mouth.

Moniques skin burned beneath his gaze, her heart racing. 'Did he just use a _flirtatious_ tone with me?' she wondered, practically a squeal in her mind.  
Kari looked on, unimpressed. "Well, we must go, but we will meet you tomorrow."  
Erik nodded, "Adieu." He disappeared, seemingly into thin air.  
"Bye." Monique called after him.

They walked through to the stage area to see had been done since they had been there last. The lighting bars were down, hanging close over the stage so the lighting techs could change some of the hard to reach lights without going up into the gods. They jumped up and walked across the stage. "Oh my god, can you believe we met him?" Monique asked excitedly.  
"It's crazy… it's like… it's something out a dream. Well.. at first it was kinda scary though."  
Monique nodded "Yeah."  
"When he caught you like that, I freaked out. I started wishing we'd bought some kind of weapon!" Kari laughed now at the silliness of her thoughts.  
Monique joined her in laughter, "Oh yeah, one of the many guns and knives that we just happen to have lying around, gee, don't know how we forgot about bringing those."

"It was such a shock to see him… " Kari began.  
"I KNOW! I thought I was going to die from fright. But then I thought HE was dead! God, I was so freaked out!" she babbled.  
"Well, not only that… but the way he… y'know…" she lowered her voice "looked."

"I know! He's so…" she paused to think of the correct term, it wasn't 'cute' nor would the modern 'hot' do, so she settled on "Handsome! The parts you can see are perfect gentleman, the cool clothes and slicked hair, smooth skin, good looking features." She sighed dreamily and Kari joined her for a moment of daydream.  
"Oh god, when he taught me… I thought I was gonna die from just… being so amazed or something. He is so observant. He sees every little thing, picks up on any little thing, even if you try and hide it, he pulls it out so you can't hide from it anymore. And then he helps you to fix it. He's given me a whole lot of ways to improve my song – I feel more confident already, but I can't wait for another lesson."  
"He's gonna give you another lesson?" Monique inquired, it was obvious from her tone she felt left out.  
Kari picked up on it instantly, "Yeah, but you should so bring your Moulin Rouge stuff, ask him to listen to you and give you some pointers." She suggested.  
Monique nodded, "Okay, I will. Tomorrow." she smiled, a singing lesson with Erik would definitely not go astray.

Erik paced around his lair. He was confused. A feeling he didn't quite appreciate. He liked to be fully aware and fully in charge. He liked to know all things. Knowledge was power, and that, was his security. He liked to know all, and he felt he could operate more smoothly when he knew exactly what was happening around him. But the two visitors had suddenly taken away his sense of security. They had invaded his sleep, awoke in from a supposed 100 year slumber, spoken to him in strange ways and now vowed to return, even asking his permission… to return. They had awoken thoughts, feelings in him that he thought were long dead. Even awoken feelings he hadn't quite come to grips with and wasn't sure he really knew how to feel properly. He had started react to them in automatic ways that he couldn't seem to control or understand in the moment, his body seemed to functioning all on it's own, his words and tones, his posture, betraying his rational, sceptical mind. It was almost frightening and Erik hated feeling fear. It tended to make him mad. But it wasn't completely frightening, there was another element to it. An element he couldn't put his finger on, something that stirred his insides. Something that felt very different to the despair he was usually resigned to wallowing in. But what madness had taken place in his lair this very day? The strangest creatures had descended upon him, moving, talking, dressing, acting in strange ways. And they willingly wanted to return to his dungeon… to be in his company. Surely they were mad. 'Indeed they are mad.' He thought to himself. He had overheard their rambling conversation as they had begun to leave the theatre. Voices so similar to the over-excited ballet rats he was used to hearing chirping from the sides of the stage. Oh, but the lunacy of their words, some barely recognisable from their true English form… and the subject matter… Himself! They flattered him without knowing he was able to hear them. Was this some cruel form of trickery? Or true sincerity?  
But how could it be sincerity? Unless, perhaps, one or both of them were delusional… their minds possessed by demons. He had heard the more boyishly dressed girl, Monique speaking of him being handsome! Ludicrous! She was clearly hallucinating. But the other girl, of strange name, Kari; had agreed. He was cursed with a hideous deformity that he kept hidden from the world beneath his mask – that still made him a frightening appearance to look upon… and they had spoken of words such as handsome! His curse was right before them. And they didn't see it. Perhaps… it were they themselves who were cursed, unable to see the monster… until it was too late.

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Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think, what worked for you, what you enjoy/ed – if I know what works then I can give you more of it :)


	10. Vain Precautions

**A/N:** Thankyou for your reviews. They mean very much to me. I apologise for the delay in updating, unfortunately I had few rather… well, crap (emotionally draining) days, and couldn't find the urge to let my muse take my fingers where she chooses. However, I find that writing is better then not writing, so I bring you the next instalment.

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**Further notes:** Just to restate – this story basically is a follow up to the what occurred in the 2004 movie (with some alterations in the history – which you will learn about later). Basically the story in the movie (with some small alterations) is the story that the girls read about in the book "Le Fantôme de L'Opéra" by Gaston Leroux (Therefore the book, in my story, differs from the actual book by Leroux, which I have read). Apologies if this all seems a bit confusing. There also will be some influences (in terms of Eriks true story) from the real Leroux novel, the ALW musical/movie, and the 'sequel' to The Phantom of the Opera novel, _'The Phantom of Manhattan'_ by Frederick Forsyth (which is, by-the-way, an interesting read). None of these works do I own – all the characters and plots of those works belong to their rightful owners. I only own my characters and the situations I put them in.

Lastly, aside from the way this name of this chapter sprang forth naturally from the chapter content, I was influenced by a Ballet choreographed by Sir Frederick Ashton of the same name.

Without further ado… please enjoy 

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**Chapter 9:**

VAIN PRECAUTIONS

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A thought had come to Moniques head as Kari and herself had entered their apartment that evening. She had spotted their reflections in the hall mirror and paused, wondering why she'd never looked at it quite that way before. Their reflections were very similar to two people they had read so much about. Kari had mid length wavy dark hair of an almost chocolate colour, and a very classical look, although American, she had the complexion of English rose. Monique on the other hand had long, straight blonde hair, she usually bunched it up into a messy birds nest of a bun, with her hair back, her pale blue eyes set amongst cherubic features were even more noticeable. They were relatively normal on their own, but when the girls were together, Monique had just noticed, they matched, very much, the descriptions of Meg and Christine. She looked sideways at Kari, she was the Christine of the pair, the operatic voice, the classical dark haired beauty. Internally Monique grumbled, for it was Christine, not Meg who got the Phantoms affections. It was then a sudden realisation hit her, something she hadn't pondered before, but now suddenly seemed clear as day. She wanted to look at the end of the book again. She was just about to go into her room to take it off the shelf when she stopped. She had left the book with Erik. "Kari, can I borrow your book for a bit?" they didn't even have to say which book 'the book' was THE book. Kari frowned, "Monique… uhhh, in case you've forgotten – we MET him today. You know… you were there, I was there….. HE was there. We were all there." She explained as if Monique was dumb.  
Monique rolled her eyes, "Just gimme the book." She demanded and headed towards her room. She suddenly felt like rewriting history once more.

Monique rolled over onto her back, putting Karis book onto the floor, practically 'rereading' the words in her head: _Raoul and Christine had hurriedly gathered the mementos from Christines dressing room that she had wanted to save, and due to the easy access from her room to the outside, Raoul allowed her a quick moment to change from the soaking wet wedding dress the Phantom had forced on her. Fearing the fires hungry flames the two fled, hand in hand, to the outside world, to forever leave behind the events of the doomed opera house, and the treacherous ghoul that lay within it's bowels. As Raoul hailed for the carriage bearing his family seal Christine had spotted Meg Giry running down the front steps of the Opera Populaire._

"_Meg?" Christine called to her, her sweet angelic voice trembling with emotion.  
Meg had paused beside them, and it was then Christine noticed the half mask she held in her hand. Raoul clutched protectively to his future bride, as if to protect her from the mask itself. Megs face was blanched white with fear, her wide blue eyes laced with tears. _

"_Come with us Meg." Christine implored.  
"I must find my mother…" Meg panted, her eyes darting left and right.  
The carriage pulled up beside them, the horses whinnying, sensing the tension in the air, and being distracted by the mass exodus of people from the Opera Populaires burning insides.   
Raoul pulled his fiancé towards the carriage, "We must go." He whispered into her ear.  
"Find me Meg… we wont be hard to locate – I want you at our Wedding."  
Meg nodded, blinking slowly, hiding then revealing her eyes, glassy with tears. Before Christine - safe in the protective arms of her fiancé - could say her last goodbye from the carriage Meg took off towards the Opera House once more to look for her mother.  
Christine peered from the carriage as the horses hooves clip-clopped against the stones and they pulled away from the grand courtyard of the Opera House. A fleeting view of Megs retreating form disappearing around the side of the Theatre was the last that Christine ever saw of Meg Giry._

Monique sighed, she now saw that last chapter in a completely different light, aside from the gratuitous comment 'safe in the protective arms of her fiance' – no doubt more of Raouls feather fluffing. It wasn't her mother that Meg had been worried about, Madame Giry had made it from the flames just fine. Meg had been carrying Eriks mask, couldn't bare to look Christine in the eye, never bothered to find her way to the marriage of Raoul and Christine all because she had been hiding something… like Monique. Meg loved Erik. She had loved him, but he had loved Christine, and Meg had never let her feelings show. She had known that the Angel of Music had been Christines new tutor, and she had hinted at Christine for an introduction "_I only wish I knew your secret… who is this new tutor_?" She had wished she knew the secret alright, the secret to Eriks heart, and so badly wanted Christine to introduce her – but it had never happened. So from afar she had felt his presence, even watched and heard him – but never did get a chance to find him. Meg had even been brave enough to try and find Erik by venturing into his lair uninvited, until her mother - thinking it unwise to venture forth without invitation, and knowing full well Eriks obsession with Christine - had pulled her back. So all Meg took with her from the Opera house, was one of Eriks masks when she had forlornly discovered his lair empty, and a heavy heart that lead her to exile Christine from her life. Christine, who had had the love of two men, and finally chosen the safer option, of a rich, supposedly handsome Vicomte.

Monique looked out her window at the inky sky spotted with the beautiful fairy lights of stars, well she had rewritten history already, now she was doing it again – Erik hadn't been unloved, he just hadn't realised he had been loved. Monique wondered if she could perhaps rewrite history once more… with a final look at the stars she smiled to herself and forced herself to retire for the night.

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The next morning Monique sat anxiously in the lounge, it was 9.30 am and she had been up for what felt like half the night, she'd been for a walk, bought breakfast for the three of them and some other groceries, then she'd gone window shopping to pass time, then come home and gone for a swim, then got changed to go and meet Erik, then changed again, and…. changed again, then had stretched out on the fold out couch in the lounge to wait. It was then that she had an idea. An idea that she wasn't sure was feasible, and wasn't sure if she was crazy for even thinking it. So she decided to let the thought sit and ruminate over it for the day, and share it with Kari later.

"I think that's better now… I mean, yesterday Erik said we looked a bit boyish." Kari explained, shrugging. Now they were both wearing skirts, and feminine tops. Monique had put a little eyeliner and mascara on to further enhance her eyes, which she was told were her best feature. Neither girl spoke of their need to impress, nor questioned the other. Just as they were about to leave, the phone had rung.

"So… what'd the Director want?" Monique asked once they were in the car and on the way to the Opera de Pallisade. "She wants me and Yekaterina to do a final sing through of the aria for her today, so she can decide which of us she wants to use for the show, and we're going to do it at the theatre." She replied.  
"Ooh, good, we can stay with Erik all day then." Monique seemed rather happy at that.  
Kari smiled, looking at her friend out the corner of her eye, she was far too absorbed in Erik for her own good. They drove along in silence for the rest of the journey. It wasn't until Monique had parked the car and they were walking towards the theatre that they began to speak. "I hope he likes what we got." Monique gestured at the plastic shopping bags they were carrying, they contained more then enough food for all of them. Kari just nodded absently. After another moments silence, in which Monique had been thinking about how to ask Erik for a lesson, Kari spoke.

"You know.. Monique, you should know something." Kari finally worked up the courage to say.

Monique hesitated at the tone of Karis voice, then turned to look at her, "What's that?" she asked, a look of concern crossed her face. But Kari saw something else behind the concern – it was a 'I'll grit my teeth and get through it' sort of air. She was preparing herself to be very suddenly and awkwardly disappointed and let down.  
Kari felt pangs of guilt shoot up and down her spine and lost heart. "The director also said I got my wish…" she finally said, with a smile, relieving the tension.  
Moniques eyes widened.  
"We're having a Bal Masque to celebrate the opening of the show!" she added with excitement.  
"YES!" Monique squealed, already conjuring up the sort of costume she wanted to wear. And then there was the date issue…

"Does that hurt?" Kari pulled Monique out of a daydream as they wandered through the Opera de Pallisade. Monique realised she was talking about the burn mark across her neck. She shook her head, "Nah… only if I touch –but it's not that bad. I got a bit of a bruise on my hip though, from when he got a little pissy after I touched his face."

Kari shook his head, "Well.. you know, you shouldn't have touched him. I mean do you normally grab complete strangers faces?" she ventured.  
Monique shrugged, letting the comment roll of her shoulders, "I don't consider him a complete stranger." She replied ambiguously, her tone effectively closing that conversation, but it wasn't long before she was speaking again.   
"How is it that he is still… like… alive?" She wondered aloud.

Kari shrugged, "Coma? I dunno. He was asleep – like deeply asleep – he didn't wake from our voices or your scream, nothing. Until you touched him. Kinda like those bears y'know? The ones in America that sleep all winter."  
Monique snorted, "You mean hibernate?"  
Kari looked offended, "Well, in their deep sleep their hearts slow right down, their body effectively shuts down save for breathing at a very reduced rate. They're barely alive until something triggers them to wake."

Monique considered a moment, "Yeah, I see what you mean now…" she trailed off.  
"Thankyou." Kari replied.  
Monique snorted, "… Erik's part man-part bear." She continued on. She let out an evil laugh and pushed on ahead.

Kari rolled her eyes and followed.

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"I hope he knows we're here." Monique whispered as they began down the first stone corridor, of the level just below the auditorium of the theatre. As they rounded a bend a soft yellow glow reached out into the darkness. Erik had lit some of the candelabras along the walls to provide light for them. "He must do." Kari replied distractedly, still thinking about what she had pondered about saying to Monique earlier.  
"I hope he's waiting for us at the lake." Monique whispered again.  
Kari had no reply, and silence descended for a few moments, as they continued down the stone corridors – this journey much easier then their initial descent into the deep bit of the theatre.  
"I hope he doesn't mind us coming." Monique whispered once more.  
"OKAY! I get it!" Kari bit sharply.  
Monique recoiled and looked at her, upset.

"Sorry…" Kari responded instantly, "Just tired… couldn't sleep well last night."

Monique nodded, "I know the feeling." She had barely slept the previous night at all, she kept thinking about Eriks lair, about Erik, Meg Giry, and lastly how she felt about it all. And then when she'd finally got to sleep she'd had a crazy dream that Erik was giving Kari a singing lesson again, then suddenly stopped and asked her to marry him and live with him down in his sanctum. She had agreed instantly, and they'd both sent Monique away so they could live their life in peace. After that dream, Monique had stayed up all night trying to shake of the residual feelings of betrayal.

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As they passed more floors and drew nearer to the lake Moniques pace had picked up, like a drug addict knowing his next fix was just around the corner. They rounded the last corner, and there, holding a candelabra in one hand, and a rope tied to the front of the punt in the other, was Erik. He looked as if he'd know the exact moment they would round the corner, as if he'd just readied himself for their arrival of that second.  
"Bonjour Erik, how are you this morning?" Monique walked straight towards him, all smiles.

Erik took in their appearances rapidly, this morning they were very different to yesterdays surprise visit. Today they were dry for a starters, but dressed much more like ladies, and looked much more vibrant. Still, they were strange creatures, invading a place they didn't belong. But, my, they looked so happy about it all.

"This morning finds me well Mademoiselle." Erik replied gentlemanly like, though he had considered answering that he was not, nor ever had been, a bear.

Monique dropped her shopping bag into the punt, "I told you," she turned and looked up at Erik, then put one hand on his arm just above the elbow, "Call me Monique, not Mademoiselle, that just sounds weird."

Eriks eyes dropped to the hand that was on his arm. Why was she touching him? She was quite possibly the strangest creature he had ever come upon. She was already very different from the day before. She was like… a strange butterfly, he finally decided. A beautiful, and curiously evolving creature to look at, but unpredictable. Was she venomous? Would she unfurl the most beautiful delicate wings and fly away?

He finally found his voice, "As you wish," he gave a slight bow of his head.

Monique smiled, then released her hand. Meanwhile Kari watched on, barely able to stop herself rolling her eyes.  
"Hi Erik" she said finally.  
"Good morning to you, Mademoiselle." He replied, then shook his head, "My apologies, it is Kari, I believe."  
Kari nodded, "Yeah, but I don't mind the mademoiselle thing… it's cute." She shrugged.  
"Shall we?" Erik gestured towards the punt.   
Monique hopped over the edge and into the front of the boat, sitting just before the lit lanterns.  
Kari held her hand out to Erik, and he held his own hand out to help her into the boat.  
'Damn!' Monique cursed in her mind, 'How could I have forgotten that?'

Kari smiled to herself contentedly. She was really quite enjoying the gentlemanly manners.

Once they were seated comfortably, well, as comfortably as one could in a oddly shaped wooden boat, Erik placed the candelabra back into it's place on the wall, stepped into the and punt used the pole to push off from the ground. They moved smoothly through the water, never once rocking, or veering off course. Monique had often heard that steering a gondola was actually quite difficult, but Erik made it look nothing but easy. Eriks eyes dropped from the lake ahead, to the two passengers in his boat; he didn't need to sight navigate his tunnels – he knew them in his minds eye. They were both calm, relaxed, lost in their own thoughts, wordlessly taking in their surroundings, now that he had lit some of the torches along the walls they were afforded more a view of his refuge, his prison, his home. His eyes dropped to Moniques neck, he felt an emotion wash over him that he didn't like the feeling off, the nervous pangs of guilt. He had marked her. But she had not reproached him, not shown fear or anger towards him, nor even mentioned it. He decided he would have to do the gentlemanly thing, though he was anything but a gentleman. He was a monster, through and through. Perhaps these two strange creatures, the diva and the butterfly, were blind. No… they had looked right into his eyes, and their eyes moved in natural ways. Again Erik couldn't help but wonder if their eyes had been cursed to not know danger. But then, his butterfly had been – Erik stopped. The pole dragged across the slimy stones beneath them, in his surprise had he almost released it from his grip. His passengers turned to eye him as the boat slowed, and he quickly regained his composure externally, steering effortlessly once more. Outside, he was the perfect image of poise, but inside he was suddenly writhing, seething, fighting himself. NO! How could he have done that? It was a mistake! He knew it to be. It had to be. How could he have said HIS butterfly. No… not again. He couldn't go through this. Couldn't do this to his Diva and his butterfly. Erik fought the urge to cry out in frustration. He had done it. He had somehow let his defences fall enough to think them his. To call them his. His diva and his butterfly. How could he? He had tried all precautions. In vain. Erik closed his eyes tightly, navigating blindly. He had to put an end to this. Send them away, bid them to never return. He wouldn't do this again. But…

No.

But-  
NO.

But… they had come here of their own volition. Twice.  
Erik opened his eyes once more, knowing them to be close to his 'shore'. It was true. They had come there of their own volition. They had bought him breakfast.  
Erik was reminded of the kindness of Antoinette Giry, all those years ago. She had saved him, then kept him alive. Perhaps there were still people like that, perhaps two girls of the most purest heart and found him. But what good would it do? Surely they'd soon see how horrid he was and disappear. The diva to her stage. The butterfly to her meadows. Both, to the garish light of day.

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Thanks for reading. Please, please let me know what you think. Nothing encourages… or kicks me up the butt to update like a review does. Reviews don't give me the option of ignoring my muse or desire to write. Ignoring me, however, does. :P  
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And last words from me today:  
_Reality is an interesting place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.  
Amen._


	11. Under the Sword

**A/N:** Thanks again for the reviews, it's good of you to leave them for me. Though, I'm starting to realise my story is obviously not very popular around here. Oh well, I shall endeavour to continue until I run out of steam.

**Chapter 10:**

UNDER THE SWORD

The boat rose up on the stones from the water, and Monique was the first to step off, taking her bag of food with her. Kari followed, and lastly Erik, who tied the boat to a brass hook embedded in the stone wall. "Where can we eat this?" Monique turned to eye Erik, holding the bag up in front of him. He eyed the bag suspiciously, "Expecting visitors?" his visible eyebrow cocked.

Monique frowned, then realised he was mocking her. "Yes… didn't I tell you yesterday? I organised a party." She mocked back at him.  
He ignored her smart comments and moved silently past her disappearing up a set of stairs.  
Kari gave her a 'now look what you've done' look, as she too brushed past her silently, following Erik up the stairs.  
Monique sighed to herself and followed them.

They found themselves in another stone room dominated by a large wooden table, that was clearly assembled in 3 pieces, and had very ornately carved legs. Down each side of the table was a long wooden bench, similar to a church pew and at the heads of the table two matching velvet covered high backed wooden chairs. Of course, the table was occupied by a dramatic three-tiered wrought iron candelabra, that housed thirteen red candles. There was a side table that ran along most of the length of the back wall, that too boasted magnificent candelabras – it seemed there was a recurring pattern in his design tastes.

Monique set the bags down onto the table, "So you have, like, plates and stuff right?" she eyed Erik.

"No something that is like plates, but plates indeed. I have bowls, cups and utensils with which to eat food, of course. A man must eat after all." He didn't say it, but it seemed only natural that on the end of the sentence was 'that was a stupid question'. Kari gave her a look that only reinforced that. Monique grumbled and plonked herself down on the pew, and decided not to help them to prepare anything – she was sick of their 'holier then tho' looks.

And so it was that Erik and Kari 'prepared' the breakfast that included packaged pancakes, yoghurt, strawberries, lemons, pineapple, apple and fresh orange juice, while Monique sat sulking at the table. Erik looked over at her as he lay a silver platter on the table, with the chopped fruit on it. 'She is acting like a spoilt child.' He thought to himself, when she wouldn't look him in the eye, he thought back a moment – remembering Karis story – she had not been spoilt at all. He decided not to reproach her for her insolent behaviour, after all, it was none of his concern.

Erik took his place at the head of the table, while Monique and Kari sat opposite each other as close as possible to Erik without actually sitting in his lap. They was no conversation as they began their meal, Monique was a sighing, sulking, silent presence that all but cried out for attention as she nibbled slowly, taking what she thought were furtive glances at Erik every few seconds.

Finally Erik set down his fork, "What is the problem mademoiselle?" he used the term deliberately to cause a reaction.

Monique looked up at him, "What problem?" she enquired, guilty as sin.

"Did your parents never teach you that it is rude to stare?" he countered, his eyes glittered darkly. Kari sat back to watch their exchange, admiring Erik, he was not the type of person you wanted to play games with, for you would inevitably fall into his traps and lose.

Monique was silent a moment too long.  
"Well, Mademoiselle? I'm sure you know it rude to stare, so why must you insist on doing it?" he leaned a little toward her.

Monique felt as though she were in high school, shrinking beneath the smirking glare of an all too self-important science teacher. Instead of letting him see that, she sighed and turned to regard him levelly, "What good is beauty if it can not be looked upon?" she questioned.

Karis eyes widened. Did she really just say that? Oh God. Is her brain-to-mouth filter out of order today or what?

A low growl of frustration escaped Eriks mouth, and he stood from the table so fast the chair behind him reeled and clattered to the floor. His cloak ruffled ominously as he spun on his heel and stalked from the room, mad, determined, his stride full of forboding. Kari glared across the table at Monique, "What THE HELL was THAT!" she demanded.  
"What!" Monique snapped back at her.  
"Are you trying to get us killed?"

Monique sighed with indifference and plucked a strawberry from Eriks plate and ate it slowly.  
"Dude, you KNOW what he thinks about beauty. And you know what he thinks of himself. He's wearing a FRICKEN MASK! Why'd you say that!"  
"It's just the truth, gosh – am I not allowed to even speak the truth."  
"I don't think-" Kari began, then stopped, shaking her head at Monique as if she were a child who obviously didn't know what she was talking about, she didn't bother to finish her sentence.

Monique sighed once more, "Fine… let me go fix it. AGAIN. God! He gets into shitty moods so easily." She mumbled as she got up from the table.  
"Sounds like SOMEONE ELSE I know." Kari countered.

"Yeah. You." Monique muttered as she walked away.  
-

Monique padded softly across the stones, in the path she thought Erik had taken. "Erik?"

Silence.  
"Erik? ERRRRRRIKKKK?" Monique called as she wandered out towards the water.  
She heard nothing, but was sure he was there. The air felt alive… as if moved by anothers heartbeat, she whirled around. Nothing. She turned back to where she had been. Nothing.  
'Fine, two can play at your little hiding game Mr Phantom' Monique thought to herself and wandered off in another direction. She ended up at the completely smashed out mirror which lead to the passage in which they had found him sleeping just yesterday, and decided to venture inside, taking a candelabra from the wall. She lit a few candles as she entered, and set the candelabra down on top of a wooden box, and looked around her. Now, with light, the room was even more impressive then it had been the day before. There were many wooden crates around the room, some sealed, some open and revealing their contents, odd mixtures of items that had once been props, statuettes, some valuable looking pieces of jewellery and art. She perused the contents of one box, pulling out a red velvet jewellery box. She gently pulled open it's lid and gasped quietly at it's contents.

Even in the low light of the candles, she could tell there was some serious worth in the box. She pulled out a gold ring, mounted with a large deep blue sapphire, shouldered with small diamonds, it glinted seductively in the soft amber wash of the room. She was about to try it on then noticed something else, and set it down. A hollow silver filigree heart pendant, it was almost an inch across and just over and inch long, it was three dimensional, so it did not lay flat, but was almost buoyant like a balloon – perfectly formed from each side, and hung from a long silver chain, that was thicker then the conventional pendant chain of today. She pulled it from the box, hanging it off a finger in front of her, admiring it as it swung slowly from side to side. Though not as much of a statement as the ring, nor as bejewelled as some of the other pieces in the box, she had fallen in love with it. She closed her eyes, imagining it around her neck, how the cool silver would feel against her skin, secretly resting beneath her clothes, begging to be discovered, but all the same, wanting to remain a precious secret against her body. But she didn't dare put it on, only looked it at it one more time wantonly then put it back. Guiltily she put the jewellery box back into the crate and moved onto more things.

Something caught her eye, a glint of metal from the corner. Curiously she moved over to inspect it. A leather scabbard hung from a small brass hook, and from the top of the scabbard a small silver pommel topped an ornate hilt and large circular hand guard, belonging to a sword. Moniques eyes lit up, and curiosity won over. She held the side of the scabbard with her right hand and grabbed the grip of the sword below the guard with her left. With a swift jerk she pulled the sword from it's sheath, and breathed loudly in awe. She attempted to thrust the sword out in front of her, in an attack at an invisible enemy. The sword lilted up and down drunkenly, not an ounce of threat behind it. The sword was heavier and harder to control then she had imagined, so she grabbed it with both hands and began sweeping it and thrusting it around. She faced the wall and shadow fenced quite ungainly, but begun to work up a sweat. Her arms began to ache beneath the strain and she was about to put the sword away when she heard the unmistakable sound of a sword being whipped from it's scabbard behind her.

Monique whirled around. The sword directly in front of her, but it wavered, betraying her defiant stance.  
A foot from the edge of her sword, was the point of another. And holding that sword, Erik. His eyes were set on hers, shining out at her from behind his mask. He said nothing.

Neither did she. But he stepped forward, his sword held evenly, never once swaying. Then his sword touched hers. Metal against metal. The tip slid down a small length of her sword, emitting the only sound between them. His eyes never left hers and Monique felt her chest rise and fall quickly – her breathing suddenly shallow and rapid. But he remained calm and perfectly poised. With a sudden surge of defiance Monique leapt forward and thrust the sword towards him, the sword stabbed angrily forward; but into thin air. It may've been a good shot, had she possessed enough strength and speed. Erik stepped to the side, barely needing to use any energy at all he easily batted the sword away – as if it were a mere child that had lunged at him. His eyes still had not left hers, and to make it worse, he looked thoroughly bored by her attack. Monique glowered darkly. She held his eyes with a vehement stare pacing sideways with her sword still directed at Erik, who pivoted easily – if not bordly – on the spot. With a few more breaths Monique summoned up more energy, and with a cry of anguish drove the sword at him once more. The result was the same. Using only the very tip of his sword he deflected the blow sideways, the weight of her sword sent Monique slightly off balance. Still Eriks eyes remained on hers, and he looked so unaffected it dragged the anger out of the pit of her stomach and into her left arm holding the sword. She took a deep breath, this shuffled one foot forward, taking a mock step like a boxer. Erik didn't even flinch, didn't even react to her pathetic attempt at a fake. Monique stared dagger into his eyes, and Erik looked almost amused. Now she was determined to get him, she stepped to the side moving the sword slightly to her left, then dove at his right side. There was a loud scrape of metal against metal as he used his blade to once again deflect the blow, then he struck her sword, right up by the hand guard. The sudden blow gave her a fright, but had it not, she still would've dropped the sword for it shook with an almighty fury in her hand, and she could hold it's weight no longer. The sword clanged loudly as it fell to it's demise on the stone between them. And then his sword was at her throat. Moniques eyes widened, feeling the tip of the sword pressing in just below the hollow of her throat where the collar bones joined. Eriks eyes glittered as he held her eyes with a dark, almost seductive glare. The sword moved slightly down her chest, down her sternum, stopping just before coming to the small swell of her breasts. Moniques skin tingled, and she forced herself to remember that this was a SWORD caressing her; a dangerous weapon - not anything else. But the way he held her eyes… Monique felt her upper chest heaving, pressing against the blade, then receding once more, his eyes seemed to look through her skin, past the hormones racing in her blood and into some very deep dark part of her she barely knew herself.

She felt helpless under his gaze. There was nothing she could do. He could kill her… or release her, or slowly torture her beneath his seductive gaze and the caress of a sword. It was too much. He was driving her to frustration. So she pushed forward, leaning into the sword. It was no longer a soft touch against her skin, but pressed harshly into her delicate flesh. It was on the verge of inflicting pain. He seemed a little caught off guard by that.  
"Go on… do it. If that's what you've come here to do... showing me your apparent ability to deflect attack, then catch me with your sword and run me through." She taunted him.  
He looked at her almost pitifully, "Ability to deflect attack?" he laughed sarcastically, a hard look in his eyes. "What attack was that? You think your misguided and pitiful attempts at weakly jabbing a sword at me are an attack?" he shook his head, in a play of mock sympathy.  
"With nothing else but music to occupy my time, I became something of a master swordsman. My aim is perfect. I could cut the clothes from your body, and leave not a single mark against you." As he spoke his sword traced a slow, smooth line across her skin, towards her right arm. Monique felt her eyes threatening to roll back into her head as her body flooded with heat, she exhaled audibly as her lips fell apart. With a small flick of his wrist the sword tip deflected sharply to the right, then stopped perfectly on point. Monique broke his entrancing gaze to look toward the sword. As if to prove a point, he had cut the front of the sleeve of her shirt, a thin, perfect line in the material. She raised her eyes to meet his once more, "Is that what you want then? To have me unclothed?" she tilted her chin upwards, not backing down from his mind game, she put as much sex into her eyes as she could muster.

Erik turned away from her then, and the spell was suddenly broken. The palpable tension shifted – the mood completely changed.

"I want you gone." His voice was low, even and devoid of much emotion, save for a glimmer of threat.

It was best for all of them if these strange creatures departed his lair and never returned. Then he wouldn't be annoyed by them enough to break his vow to never hurt a woman, then he wouldn't have to deal so much with the fact that he thought of them as _his_ just because they had entered his lair, he wouldn't have to deal with the pain of rejection when the inevitably realised he was a monster; and they wouldn't have to pretend, or suffer a curse not to notice the hideous carcass that moved before their eyes.

"What? Just me?" she asked indignantly, her tone full of hurt, voice trembling with emotion.  
Pangs of guilt stabbed at Eriks stomach like blunt icy daggers. "No... my butterfly. Both of you must go." He replied, the damming words slipping from his mouth before he could stop them. As soon as he said them, he realised the mistake and wished with all his might he could take them back. 'My butterfly' he thought forlornly, 'How could I have told her?'.  
Monique closed the distance between them, "Butterfly?" she enquired, her tone no longer laced with hurt.  
Erik didn't reply, only turned slightly so she could see less of him.  
"BUTTERFLY?" she repeated and grabbed one of his sleeves and stepped around to face him.  
His eyes were cast downward. His private thoughts had been discovered. And now he would pay. Shame washed over his face. If only he hadn't been a demon child, cursed with such deformity as to be exiled even from his own mother. If only he didn't repulse everyone who came into contact with him. If only someone could lift the burden of the face of death from him. But no. That would never happen, so he was left to face the shame. To wallow in self pity and suffer the shame that he thought about creatures in terms of beauty. That a horrid thing such as himself dared entertain thoughts of curiosity, friendship, love – in light of other normal beings. What a fool. He would now be mocked. He couldn't raise his eyes to meet hers, couldn't bare to look her in the eye when he had to face her scolding.

"You called me a butterfly?" her soft, inquisitive voice met his ears. Not the tone he had been expecting. No scorn or hatred. But an angelic curiosity, and a hint of happiness.

With the smallest of movements, he nodded.

"Erik!" she exclaimed in delight, then jumped up and forced herself onto him, in a stumbling, awkward, strangulating hug. Erik stumbled back a few steps before regaining composure, but remained ever weary and had yet to find the gall to even touch her.

"You're precious." She laughed. "I love butterflies. They're so special… so beautiful, and wondrous. The way they start life as one thing, then hide themselves a way for a while, and then emerge from a chrysalis as one of the prettiest creatures God ever created." She sighed, still hugging him, her lithe body pressing up against his well-muscled form. She tried not to let herself be too disappointed that Erik wasn't gleefully wrapping his arms around her and returning the sentiment, he wasn't touching her at all… but at least he didn't push her away.

Finally she released him, and grabbed one of his gloved hands in her own, "Don't send me away Erik. Please? I want to be here. I want to be here with you." She put every ounce of pleading and sincerity into her voice, eyes and hands.  
Erik couldn't bare it. It was like she was ripping him apart. Her small hands might as well have reached right into his chest and pulled out his heart and pulled at it like it were a piece of taffy. She thought she was being so kind… but lord, did it ever feel so cruel to know that she couldn't possibly be of her right mind as she spoke. But a small part of him allowed himself to humour her. It implored him '_Let her stay. Let her believe what she wants to believe.' _

Finally he gave into the inner voice and mustered up the courage to reply, "As you wish." He bowed his head.

Monique smiled up at him. But he didn't return the gesture.  
Monique tried to fight disappointment. She knew he wasn't a simple person. And had suffered traumatic experiences in his life, but she wanted to make him see that things could be different for him. So far, he only reacted with anger and distrust. But still… he had let her stay, that was one thing. And sometimes, one thing, lead to another.

As always, let me know what you think. For what use is a service, if it not tailored for the customer?


	12. Without Permission

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews. It's nice to know there are people (okay… a few people) out there. I put work into my chapters, and I would hate to think I work for no one. What use is this… if not for someone else to read? _My apologies for the late update – I've been unable to get online for a few days, due to technical probs, which are now solved._

Amaruk Wolfheart, Galasriniel,  and The Green Khronic: Thankyou so much for your funny and encouraging reviews. They bring smiles to my face. I love to see when you've left me a long, strange message, and know that my craziness does not go unmatched in our strange world. Seriously, I love hearing from you – so stay in touch! -Mwah. :X

Thanks to everyone else… there are a couple of strange reviews that I can't really understand… but uhh, thanks all the same ;)

Okay, well I hope you enjoy this chapter. Perhaps I did this to spite all those that had come to assumptions based on the last chapter, perhaps it was always the way it was intended. The muse has struck… and the words came forth from my fingers to the screen. Hope it keeps you on your toes. –Mwah :X

**Chapter 11:**

WITHOUT PERMISSION

Kari had moved from the 'dining area' to sit at Eriks piano, and was randomly pressing keys when she heard Monique and Erik approaching. Audible, by Moniques incessant babbling.

Kari quickly switched from random key pressing to running up the scale, matching each note with her voice. Erik strode with purpose towards the piano, "You must stand…" he instructed, pulling her from the stool. Kari looked guilty a moment, then pulled herself together, slipping into 'perfect singing posture'. "And you must not let those shoulders rise." He murmured, his mouth momentarily close to her ear, as he ran his gloved hands across her shoulders to remind her where they should be.

Kari was finding it a difficult task to relax with Eriks closeness, and his hands upon her shoulders. Her thoughts drifted in unhelpful directions. She shivered slightly, the caress had felt as though he were sliding the sleeves of a dress of her shoulders, and down from her body. Despite the stone surroundings, she felt a warmth move through her, looking at Erik from the corner of her eyes, she let her jaw drop, her voice trilling in a wondrous form of vocal gymnastics. Eriks eyes closed for longer than a blink, and he inhaled deeply, as if somehow her voice were some delicious aroma he was taking pleasure from. A smile played across Karis lips, and her confidence surged. "Sing your song for me." He interrupted her scales, moving to the piano to play the accompaniment for her.

Kari obliged him, and sang the song – trying to concentrate on the little things that Erik had asked her to fix the day before. But as she finished, she was greeted with a new list of things to concentrate on, or to think about. And so she sang the song again. And again. And again. Growing tired, Kari took all his constructive criticisms, and prudently given praise – to fuel her next sing through. In her tired state, even his constructive criticism with patient manner were starting to grate on her, and she felt a flame of anger burn up inside her, but tried her best to stifle it's glow. Erik eyed her intensely, "Don't fight it…. _Use _it." His voice barely above a whisper. Kari's surprise moved over her face, 'the angel sees… the angel knows' she thought. "Sing." He whispered, this time giving her no accompaniment, but her starting note. And so Kari did what she was asked. And she sang. With the flame the burnt inside her, with Eriks list of pointers in her minds eye, with the desire to have the part of the aria and nail it – and the room began to fill with her song.

Erik paced around her as she sang, daring her to project wherever he walked on a whim. She followed him with her voice, like a heat seeking missile. Just as she was about to move into the songs climax, and hit the very top notes; Erik was behind her, and very close once more. Karis heart began to race, her flesh prickling with the sudden heat, as if any moment, she would begin to glow in a sheen of perspiration. He was making it nearly impossible to concentrate, but she forced herself to find the words from somewhere deep inside her brain, and just as she had reached a mindless rhythm Eriks hand snaked around her waist from behind. Kari couldn't help but look down at the delightful contrast of his black gloved hand, pressed palm down against her white blouse. "Chin up." Erik murmured throatily, using the back of his other hand to stroke underneath her chin to lift it to be parallel with the floor. Karis nerves were on edge, the slightest little touch put her flesh to flame, and it wasn't just because she knew the hardest section was coming up.

"Relax…" he seemed to purr into her ear… or into her brain, she couldn't quite sense the direction of the sound. But he was everywhere. 'How am I supposed to relax with you this close?' she wondered. Kari took a deep breath, and just as she prepared for her climactic high note, Eriks hand pressed firmly against her stomach, forcing her to correctly use her muscles to push forth the strong note required. Kari tried to congratulate herself for getting the note so easily, and having it so strong, but knew full well she owed thanks to Erik… but neither of those matters took precedence in her brain – it was occupied, instead, by wondering if Eriks palm had burnt a hole through her clothes, through her skin and into her very being. As she finished the song, she let her posture relax once more.

"Well done." Eriks silken voice interrupted Karis thoughts. He stepped back from her, which left her slightly unbalanced and swaying for a moment, before collecting herself to regard him doe-eyed.   
"You think so?" she asked.

"Yes. You have a wonderful and well-trained voice. But when you remember to control everything as needed… you sing like an _angel._" He replied.

Kari stared. That was the biggest compliment she'd ever received, and could ever _hope_ to receive in her life. The angel of music had just told her that she sung like an angel.

"Thankyou Erik. Seriously, thankyou for nit-picking at me, thankyou for making me sing it over and over… criticising me to the point of wanting to throttle you, and bringing the best out of me." She grinned, then launched herself at him, giving him a fierce bear hug, almost choking the air right out of him.

Erik did nothing to respond, but as this was his second unrequited hug of the day, he found it easier to bear. Maybe all he needed was experience. Maybe all he needed was to humble himself, let himself be vulnerable and accept human affection. No… maybe all he needed was to be lifted of the mantle of physical ugliness.

Kari broke the hug and released Erik from her grasp, "You know, you don't have to be frightened of me… of us… " she trailed off. "You don't have to be scared of showing emotion, through words or touch; Lord knows men are too much like that these days already!" she laughed to herself.   
Erik took her comment deep into his brain, beginning to analyse it from every angle. He didn't reply to the comment, just let the thought turn over and over in his mind, for close inspection.

"I have to sing this afternoon for the Director. She wants to hear me and Yekaterina sing it one last time before she decides who she wants to sing it for the weekend gala." Kari explained.  
"I have confidence in you, my Diva. But for now, you must rest your voice, but always keep your mind on the song. Everything is that song… and that song is in everything. Understand?"

Kari could've fallen asleep listening to his velveteen voice, it didn't matter that he was instructing her, he could've been asking her to his bedroom for all she knew. Kari nodded, "Everything indeed. If I don't get to sing this part for the gala, I'll probably have to sing chorus. Then, no one will hear me. No one will see me and I'll never get a part for the end of season performance." She bemoaned.

Her internal dialogue paused, 'my Diva? He called me _his _DIVA?' A smile spread across her lips. "I'm your _Diva_?" she asked.

Erik froze, he had done it again. His lips had betrayed him and spilt his secrets. He was getting careless.

Kari laughed, "Go onnn… tell me. I'm your Diiiva." She smiled in a teasing, flirtatious manner, her previous worry forgotten.  
"You must rest." He instructed.  
Kari stepped up close to Erik, tilting her head back to stare up at him, "becausssee…. I'mmmm YOUR Diva." She raised her eyebrows.  
He tilted his head to one side. She was impossible. But then, could she really be any other way? For she was a Diva… _his_ Diva… and that was the nature of the woman.

Finally he humoured her, "Yes." He stepped closer to regard her very seriously, "And, my Diva, you must rest. For this afternoon, you shall sing for me… " One gloved hand reached out and stroked across her throat, where her voice box lay. But that mattered not, for she felt it right in the pit of her stomach, as a ball of boiling flames. Kari licked her lips unconsciously, gazing up into his eyes with wanton awe.

His hand raised slightly - fingers creeping along her jaw line. "And you…" he slightly adjusted her chin, "Shall sing like an _angel,_" he whispered huskily from the back of his throat, his lips barely moving.  
Kari stared at his lips, almost hypnotised… her own lips, fallen apart, in a wide-eyed, innocently abandoned expression.

Her insides writhed. She was well and truly alive. _Desire,_ was well and truly alive.

_Meanwhile:_

_-_

_  
_Monique had amused herself by further exploring the Phantoms lair, and more importantly, his belongings. She had heard Karis voice, interspersed with Eriks echoing back and forth across the stone walls, and took that as welcome invitation to entertain herself. And entertain herself she did. She had found many paintings, mostly portraits that Erik had obviously 'borrowed' from the Theatre in the days of B.C – before Christine, and carefully analysed the faces. Some were of opera divas, leading men, opera scenes and lastly, some paintings labelled with the names of benefactors. Monique dug through them furiously, wondering if perhaps she may find a painting of one of the well-known figures of the theatre, she passed over paintings analysing their faces to see if she would feel a pang of familiarity – but none really did anything for her. She put the last portrait down, then noticed the writing on the back:

LA CARLOTTA GIUDICELLI 

_**Prima Donna Soprano**_

Monique gasped, and turned the picture back over. "Raoul didn't mention she was _that_ fat…" she breathed. She put the picture to the side, making a mental note to show Kari when she was finished with her lesson. Monique moved on from the paintings, pausing before a large set of shelves, that looked to have been hand-crafted; probably by Erik – each shelf fully laden with statuettes and ornaments or varying theme and size. She found the gold sphinx ornament that Kari had been looking at the day before, she ran her fingers across his cool, smooth surface – her eyes closing, and catching a flash of Eriks mask in her minds eye. Startling herself away from the image, she picked up the sphinx, it was deceptively heavy… a good weapon indeed, had they needed it yesterday. She placed it down once more, and pawed through the other shelves; feeling the need to touch each item of interest.

Monique had moved on from the many ornaments, statuettes and hideously expensive antique jewellery to what appeared to be a curtained cubicle. Monique pulled a curtain aside and revealed something interesting – it appeared to be a closet of Eriks clothes. She ran her hands down the sleeves of a black velvet dress jacket, played with the ruffles on a cross-over dress shirt, tossed a black satin scarf around her neck. The paused, "Oh…" she breathed, and reached out hesitantly towards the very prize she hadn't expected. The lush red velvet 'Red Death' suit, that Raoul had described as:

'_the hideous crimson cloth of the devil, _

_topped by a grotesque skull masque,_

_in a vain attempt at hiding the monstrosity _

_that had disturbed our happy masquerade_.'

What the HELL had Raoul been talking about? Hideous? Grotesque? Cloth of the Devil? The man was a lunatic. From what she could see the jacket was exquisite. A beautifully tailored garment, of rich, plush fabric, with striking brocaded detail on the cuffs, buttoned edges and the large folded lapels. Monique ran her fingers slowly across the textured surface, her eyes fluttering closed imagining running her hands across the shoulders with Erik actually wearing the jacket. She tried to shake the thoughts of Erik from her mind, and took a quick peek around her, there was no one around, so why the hell not? She pulled the jacket from it's hanger, then quickly whipped it on.

She smiled, looking down at herself, smoothing the jacket across her body. Of course, it was many sizes to big, but it felt nice to wear, though heavy. She did up the buttons that were obviously meant to be across her chest, but hung further down towards her abdomen with no manly chest and shoulders to fill the garment. The central part of jacket where it buttoned up cut off at what was meant to be the waist, then curved shallowly towards the back – into the 'tails' fashion of the time. It was meant to finish at the knee level of the gentleman wearing the outfit, but on Monique it went down to her mid calf. She somewhat resembled a child dressing up in a gentlemans' clothing - It felt luxurious, but she looked ridiculous.

She ran her hands down the velvet absently, then spotted something still on the hanger. It was an extra-long, chiffon-like crimson 'scarf'. Frowning, she pulled it from the hanger, then held it up and draped it around herself like a shawl. "Hmm… probably not how he wore it." She giggled to herself. She looked at the shoulders of the garment, then spotted on the left shoulder, just beside where the large lapel sat was a gusset in the material. Monique pulled the long 'scarf' between her fingers slowly, then came to a matching gusset towards the end of the material, which had two small clips, not unlike bobby pins attached. She put the two gussets together then clipped it into place. "Oooh…" she moved over to a curtain covered mirror, and pulled the large drape aside. Granted, she did look ridiculous, but she couldn't take her eyes off the garment. A metre long section of the 'scarf' hung over her left shoulder and down her chest, while a section of approximately 3 metres hung over her back and dragged across the ground behind her. She toyed with the material, imagining Erik wearing the suit, imagining him getting ready to '_disturb their happy masquerade'_ . She felt a pang of sympathy for Erik, as he would have heard all the happy commotion above him as the opera house was readied for their masquerade ball, all the guests chirping about their clothes, their escorts, the decorations. They would've been happy to be invited, excited at the upcoming event, meanwhile Erik would've lay low in his dark chamber – with no one to talk to, no invite, no escorts. She felt sorry for him – arriving at the masquerade ball, to be greeted with horrified silence, rather then eager happy shouts from friends.

Sighing she moved away from the mirror, and walked toward another shelf of ornaments – deciding not to take Eriks jacket off, she felt too good in it. But then she heard a sound behind her. But she was much too late. Quick as lightening the red material whipped across her face, landing unfelt across her other shoulder. But the pull from both sides of her body was not unfelt. Monique finally turned, her shock rendering her completely helpless to the force against her. Erik had looped the 'scarf/cape' around her body, and by holding both sides of the loop used it to drag her towards him. Monique stared up into his eyes, her look of surprise not fading. Eriks eyes glittered in the flickering amber candle light, his pupils were huge and threatened to take over the pale colour of his eyes. Monique vaguely wondered just how much trouble she was in.

"Do you always pry through peoples belongings without their knowledge or permission?" he seethed, staring at her dead in the eye, very matter of fact.

Monique stammered, her lips moving to form words, that never actually made the journey from thought to vocalisation.

"Well?" he growled, louder and jerked the scarf around her, sending a shockwave through her body.

"Why are you going through my possessions? Wearing my clothes? Is it not enough for you to invade my home, but also to invade my privacy and the sanctity of my private belongings?" he demanded.  
"I..I …. I.." she stammered again, for some reason her voice wasn't cooperating with her.  
"You.. you.. you?" he raised his eyebrows, mockingly, leaning in closer.

"I'm sorry!" she finally spat out, motivated by a rush of anger.

He didn't even acknowledge her apology. "Take it off." His eyes dropped to the jacket, and he dropped the material he was holding.  
Monique nimbly undid the buttons of the jacket, shrugging the jacket from her shoulders, "Anything _else_ you'd like me to take off, your _majesty_?" she mocked with a sneer.  
"DO NOT SPEAK BACK TO ME!" He roared with an intensity that shocked the anger right out of her. He grabbed the jacket roughly from her hands, and she was so shocked she was sent right off balance and tumbled to the floor, cowering from him as if she were afraid he would strike her.

He turned and placed the jacket on the hanger and back in it's rightful place, seemingly calm. He cast a deriding glare over his shoulder, "Get off the floor, you insolent child." He snapped, stalking away from her.

"Fuck you!" Monique spat, glaring at his retreating form. She pulled herself from the ground, and with a scream of anger, grabbed the candelabra that had been her guide and threw it furiously at the ground, it landed with an almighty echoing crash.

The flames extinguished and a pool of darkness descended on her immediate surroundings. But she saw him. And he knew exactly where she was; and he had her in a mere second. He forced her back against the wall, her hands planted roughly on her shoulders.

"You are a **guest** in MY home… however much the surroundings may not cater to your taste." He seethed with fury, "I request that you: do not destroy what I have worked hard to create, nor have the audacity to speak to me in such vulgar language, unfitting of even the lazy, whoring, drunk, stage hands that manned this theatre. You are _supposed_ to be a lady. In my home, you shall at least do me the favour of _acting _as one." He pressed his palms harder against her shoulders, forcing her back further into the grinding stone behind her. Unconsciously she whimpered.

"If my requests bother you, you are welcome to leave. For it is _yourself_, not anyone else, that holds you here." His face was so close to hers now, his tone barely above a very serious, partially menacing whisper.

88

88

Okay?  
Yeah… now you do some writing!

Down there!

**V**

Ta!


	13. For Fear of Not Having the Right Words

Let me know what you think… 

_-_

_-_

**Chapter 12:**

FOR FEAR OF NOT HAVING THE RIGHT WORDS

Eriks eyes held Moniques intensely for an indeterminable length of time. She barely dared to breath, and most certainly did not dare to speak or move. Finally the pressure behind Eriks hands lessened, then they disappeared from her shoulders all together, dropping down to his sides, he seemed to hesitate a moment, then silently turned and left the room. Monique let out the breathe she had been holding and drew in a few ragged gasps. Her mood had darkened, in fact, it had become downright foul now. And she was in the mood to destroy, but she had a _slight_ feeling, that destroying something immediately following his little speech wouldn't go down to well. So she paced back and forth across the room, silently brewing about how unfair and how much of a bastard Erik was.

Erik whipped the curtain aside violently and stepped out into the main area of his caved home. Kari was standing in front of the curtain, "What happened?" she demanded, worry in her voice.  
When Erik didn't answer immediately she elaborated, "I heard yelling, and then I heard some huge crash…?" her eyes implored him for a reply.

It was slow coming.  
"That audacious, foolish, impertinent child! She is more impossible then I had imagined! This is MY home and MY belongings. I may have allowed you into my sanctuary, but I do NOT remember inviting you to explore at whim, invade my privacy and peruse my belongings at your own will!" He threw his hands up in frustration, curling and uncurling a fist, beginning to pace in front of Kari.

"You didn't hurt her did you?" Kari was now really worried.

Erik paused mid-stride, his face changing, but he shook his head. "No. I would never hurt a woman… much as she does not act like one at times." He paused, "I may be a monster, but even I would not stoop so low."

Kari wanted to slap him, "You're NOT a monster Erik. You're not."

Monique chose that moment to appear through the curtains, catching the last few seconds of the conversation.

Eriks eyes darted from Karis to Moniques. Surprisingly a guilty look moved over his features.

"I agree. You're not a monster. You know, if we allow the physical nature of a thing or person to define who or what they really are – then we are really sad. We'd never really know anyone properly, we'd just cause ourselves more problems in the end. Surely you know the saying 'Don't judge a book by it's cover'?" she stared straight up at him. Her thoughts of anger gone, replaced by a deeper seeded sympathy, and desire to help him. She knew that Erik really couldn't help his outbursts of anger, and his social unease. It was engrained into him from the horrible childhood that he had lead. It was wired into him, just as her peculiarities were wired into her.

"You can not judge, nor know a man, by his face." Kari elaborated.

"That is not the thoughts of the society to which I cursed by entering." He replied.

Their words both intrigued and frightened him. And he hated fear, he hated fear in himself – it made him angry, in others, during his days of haunting, it had empowered him. He could not understand their point of view. How could two such perfectly formed, totally unmarred people speak of acceptance of those who were disfigured? How could they not be threatened? Or disgusted? And the butterfly… she had not reproached him for his maltreatment of her, just moments before. He felt guilty about that. And he wanted to feel that guilt, relish the humanity of that painful emotion, it was something he was quite unaccustomed to. He wished he had controlled his anger better. She had never shown him an ounce of disdain – quite the opposite really, and he had rebuked her furiously. Yet she returned to him, and surprisingly, put up for him. He wondered. if perhaps, he had just been born in the wrong time and suffered as he had needlessly. But he didn't dare let himself entertain those thoughts for more then a brief second.

Monique glowered, "Enough with the curses, the monsters and the demonic metaphors! Those idiots who drummed those thoughts into your head, didn't know sh-… didn't know what the hell they were talking about! I mean, at one stage, people believed the Earth was flat, that mental disorders were a result of demon possession, that woman who suffered from problems were plagued by a wandering womb, that woman were incapable of anything other than cooking, cleaning and baring children, that the four minute mile was impossible. Now look at the world – I mean, you'd barely recognise it now. Prescription medications, therapy, womens liberation – so much has changed, even over a period of a hundred years. We've learnt so much and evolved immensely from the dim dark ages. Bottom line, you need to get over the whole monster thing okay? That way of thinking is so obsolete."

Erik looked between the two strange creatures, then looked around his lair. '_look at the world – you'd barely recognise it now'._ Well, if these two girls were anything to go by, she was definitely right. He wouldn't recognise a thing. Womens liberation? How curious. Maybe these two strange creatures of an equally strange society were wise… but then, they had not seen the mark of wickedness on his cursed flesh. Monique sighed, she really wished she could get inside his brain and clear out all the useless thoughts and negative images he had of himself. She shuddered to think of the hell it must be to live imprisoned in such self-loathing. She had thought she'd had it bad, a slave to her own style of self-exile, and victim of her wholly untrusting personality; but she had nothing on Erik. He was damaged deeply, and didn't know it – at least Monique recognised her emotional ineptness – but Erik thought that every bad comment said about him was right. It pained her to think of his suffering. But if he wasn't completely blackened to the core, then he was salvageable… surely. Monique decided then, that it would be her task to help him. One way or another, she'd see it through.

Their words seemed to hang in the air, like moisture on the most humid of days. Each took with them words that refused to leave their minds, and demanded to be ruminated over. But at last, Erik broke the spell of contemplative silence.  
"Come… we must warm your voice." He directed to Kari.  
Kari nodded, then looked at Monique, "Come with." She nodded her head at the piano.  
Monique followed behind them silently, almost sulkily, a dejected air around her.

Kari stood beside the piano, and Erik went to sit while Monique stood awkwardly, watching them both, feeling like a third wheel. Erik turned to face her, almost contemplating her face for a moment, then he removed the long black cloak that almost seemed a permanent fixture, from around his neck. He took one brave step forward then circled the cape around her deftly, his gaze not meeting hers as he fastened the clip across her neck.   
Neither said any words, but this time the silence was laced with good 'vibes'.

Erik turned from her, toward the piano once more, and seated himself.  
Monique grinned widely, looking like a naughty child who'd been given a lollipop to quiet it's temper; she grasped the edges of the cape and flapped them softly about her, like dark raven wings.

Kari smiled and shook her head at Monique, giving her a friendly eye-roll. She then looked at Erik, detecting the slightest curve at the corner of his mouth. Or had she imagined it? Real or imagined, she was deeply impressed with that one small gesture. However strange it was, he had read through the lines, seen through the situation and done something to ease Moniques discomfort. Perhaps the Phantom could evolve with their evolved times.

"Good luck." Monique hugged Kari tightly, they were stood in the hallway near box 5, Erik lingering in the shadows.   
"Thanks." Kari replied, toying with the material of Eriks cloak that Monique had stubbornly refused to take off; forcing Erik to don another.

Kari pulled back from the hug, "You'll wait for me here afterwards?"  
Monique nodded.

Kari shifted her gaze to Eriks barely discernible form in the darkness.  
"Sing with everything you are, my Diva. Sing for me." His hauntingly silken voice met their ears from the shadows.

"I will." Kari nodded. They looked at each other in silence.  
"Cross your fingers for me okay?" she directed to Monique, who responded by holding up both hands, fingers crossed. Kari smiled, then disappeared silently down the hallway, pausing to take a look back. She stifled a laugh as she saw them both stealthily creeping along the hallway – two caped figures, Eriks manly form, looking deliciously suave in his cape and gentlemanly outfit, and his little mini-me, Monique. Together, they looked ridiculous, and she had to turn away before she laughed out loud at them.

Monique slipped easily out of 'stealth-mode' and began walking normally, looking around her surroundings nonchalantly, not really paying attention. Suddenly her left hand was grabbed tightly and she was yanked sideways – she would have yelped in surprise, but she found herself pressed up against Eriks chest firmly, he was gazing down at her, one finger pressed across his lips to indicate her to be silent. Monique nodded, trying her best to listen out for what had spooked him. She couldn't hear anything… had he just wanted to get close to her? She raised one eyebrow and looked up at him coyly, noticing that her right hand was planted on his upper chest, and despite the layers between them, she could feel the muscular definition.

Erik frowned when he caught her expression. And then Monique heard the sound of approaching voices – they grew gradually louder, then began to fade once more. Okay, so he hadn't just wanted to get close to her. Moniques felt a blush rise to her cheeks, sometimes her thoughts were so foolish.  
"Come." Erik suddenly broke the spell of her embarrassing thoughts, and they were on the move again.

Erik parted the curtains that veiled box 5, and allowed Monique to step through. Monique walked to the edge of the box, leaning out over the balcony.

Erik grabbed her shoulder from behind, "Come away from there." He murmured, pulled her back gently, towards the seats, which, without the lights on, was relatively shadowed. "I don't want anyone to know we're up here." He elaborated.  
Monique shrugged, "You know, I reckon it'd be fun to go and scare some people." She grinned, seating herself on his left side. Erik turned his head slightly, allowing her only a view of the unmasked side of his face. He regarded her darkly.  
"… Orr.. not." She added.

He turned back to look out at the stage.

'Spoil sport.' She thought to herself, pouting.

"Is it a habit to always pout when you don't get your way?" he inquired, turning back to look at her. His tone not belittling, more curious… somewhat friendly.

"Is it a habit to always deny people their own way?" Monique countered.

He looked amused, "If I let you have your way, I fear I could end up suffering for it."

Moniques eyes drifted downwards, then travelled slowly back up to meet his eyes, a slow, slightly crooked smile spread across her lips, "You never know…" her eyebrows flicked up quickly, then she looked back to the stage, where peoples voices could be heard.

'Oh my god… I'm so bad.' Monique giggled childishly in her head.

Erik looked at Monique out of the corner of his eyes. She was a strange one. Very hard to figure out indeed. Her tone… that look on her face, he'd seen that before – not directed at himself, but between the stage hands and the ballet rats. Her blindness was inconceivable.

Kari was stood centre stage, flanked by Yekaterina, with the Director standing before the two of them. They spoke in hushed tones, and Monique could not make out what they were saying; but it soon became clear when Yekaterina stepped forward and made a big dramatic scene of getting herself into a comfortable stance. Kari slunk back to the side of the stage, while the Director descended the steps into the auditorium, and took a seat in the third row to watch and listen. Then Yekaterina began to sing. Monique could admit that her voice was quite powerful, and she seemed pretty much on pitch – but she wouldn't have said that it was the nicest of voices she had heard. During Yekaterinas rendition of the Aria, Monique looked over at Erik, he looked contemplative. "What do you think?" she asked before she had finished singing.

"She has potential. Reasonably well trained, and has a good reserve of power behind her notes. But she lacks passion… and purity. There was a time when a voice like this would be widely accepted as accomplished. But I have always subscribed to the bel canto style of singing."

"Bel canto? Beautiful song…?" she roughly translated at a guess.

Erik nodded, "An Italian style of song, emphasising the purity and beauty of the voice over volume."

Monique nodded, "Yeah… I think Karis voice is nicer to listen to then this girl."

Yekaterina finished the song, then the Director spoke for a moment and Kari moved to centre stage.

Both Erik and Monique straightened up in their seats, looking anxiously down at Kari. Her eyes drifted up to eye Box 5 – but neither dared move.

She hesitated a moment, rolling her shoulders back, hunching them up to her ears then letting them fall easily down her back, she took a deep breath – and began to sing.

Monique smiled, she sung even better then how she had sung down in Eriks lair. Her voice carried easily through the theatre, as if it danced freely upon release from her mouth. Monique snuck a look at Erik, he stared down at Kari, his gaze unwavering. He looked almost entranced, it seemed as if her words were right there in the box with them, sitting up on his shoulder, caressing his face – as if just listening to her sing was almost sensual. Monique looked back at Kari, she too, seemed entranced – emotions coming and going across her face, her eyes searching the upper reaches of the theatre.

When Kari finished singing, there was another mini conference between her, the director, and Yekaterina. Yekaterina stepped towards centre stage once more. It seemed they were both going to get another chance to sing. She paused a moment, looking into the wings, then took a large labouring breath and began to sing once more. Erik sneered with distaste during Yekaterinas second sing through, while Monique thought evil thoughts and directed them at Yekaterinas head.

Monique shook her head, "It really is clearly obvious that Kari is the better singer! Friend or not… I can see that!" Monique gesticulated exaggeratedly.

"I don't believe she has much endurance… she forces her voice to get the high notes, rather then meeting them easily. She could be trained out of it, but in the meantime it must be uncomfortable." Erik mused.

Following Yekaterinas sing through, Kari had another go. She, if at all possible, sang even better the second time around, seeming more relaxed – her eyes gazing up into box 5, singing for Erik as promised, and as he had stipulated – she sang, indeed, _like an angel._

Monique clapped silently from Box 5 on Karis completion, and it was obvious from Karis face that she was satisfied with her performance. Erik, it seemed, was also pleased. Gazing down at Kari, with an almost proud…. satisfied gaze.

The director climbed the stairs from the auditorium onto the stage and stepped forward to speak with the two girls once more, obviously to deliver the speech they were waiting for. Monique could barely wait for congratulate Kari, she wanted to jump down into the auditorium and do it right then. But… jumping would have been rather hazardous to her health. As they regrouped to the side of the stage, Kari paused to gaze up into box 5 and give an anxious-come-excited smile, which Monique returned, despite knowing she couldn't be seen from the shadows.

Then Yekaterina stopped also, her gaze moved momentarily up towards box 5, following Karis gaze, then she frowned and turned towards the wings. As if on cue, a distinguished looking man emerged, obviously conversing with Yekaterina as he walked proudly across the stage. He paused a moment, an air of self-satisfaction coming off him, then he approached the Director.  
"Oh crap." Monique groaned.

Erik turned towards her.

"That's her father…" Monique murmured, as if it was painful merely to say.

She stared shocked into a daze, barely believing it could be happening.

"Yekaterinas father! He's a benefactor of the Pierre De Coueluff Opera Company… the company they," she gestured down at the stage, "belong to."

"Oh." Erik replied, his tone interested, pleased that a benefactor had come to congratulate his student.   
Monique stared at him.  
"… OH." He said again, this time knowing full well what his visit implied.

Monique shook her head, "Damnit, she is so much better then that kats-a-bitch biarch! But no, that cow will get the part, just 'cos daddys got cash!" she growled and kicked at the ground.

Erik looked disturbed by the news, his eyes drifted to the rafters above the stage.

"No Erik." Monique interrupted before he could even _begin_ to think those thoughts.

"If they choose money over merit then those fools shoot themselves in the foot."

"Unfortunately, people still worship money… that's something that wont have changed since you were in charge here." Monique replied, looking down at Karis small form.

In that moment, everything had changed. Monique knew… and it seemed, Kari knew it too. It was evident in her posture, and the way her eyes sadly, almost embarrassedly, flicked up at box 5 that Kari knew her fate, before it was even announced.

The four of them then spoke for a few minutes, and even from the box seating it was obvious the information that had been transpired - Yekaterina leapt into her fathers arms, squealing with joy. And so all Karis hard work had got her nowhere. Her fate had been sealed, based not on what she had or could have achieved, but on someone elses familial laurels. Monique sank further into her chair, disappointed, _gutted, _and now afraid to see Kari for fear of not having the right words to say.

Monique watched sadly as Kari took the stairs down from the stage and into the auditorium, she walked slowly and unsurely through the auditorium as if in a daze. Monique turned to Erik, "What are we gonna do?"

Erik cast a dark look toward Yekaterina on the stage.  
"Aside from anything like what you're thinking." Monique added.

"Go and wait for her beside the staircase." Erik instructed, he then turned to face her directly, "Bring her to me." As if he held the cure. Perhaps he did. Perhaps he was the cure.

Monique didn't wait around to see if there was anymore to be said, she gave him a parting look and hurried towards the staircase.

But she needn't have hurried. For it was, it seemed, a case of hurry up and wait. There was no one around… not a single soul wandering this part of the theatre, and not a single sound to even catch her attention. Monique sank down to sit on the top stair, resting against the balustrade. With lack of anything else to do Monique amused herself by running through the lyrics of the songs she had to know for Moulin Rouge. She was most of the way through the fourth song, when she finally heard the sound of someone approaching.

Monique looked up, walking up the stairs towards her – was Kari. She looked fragile despite the brave smile smothered across her face. "Oh Kari…" Monique began, standing.

Kari shook her head, "It's okay. I'm… fine." She managed.  
"I'm sorry." Monique added, as if it counted for anything.  
"Who was to know?" Kari shrugged indifferently.  
Monique was somewhat impressed, she was doing a great job of playing it off as if the loss of the role was really no big deal to her. Or was Kari just tougher then she seemed? Maybe it didn't phase her.

"He wants to see you." Monique lead Kari back towards box 5.

If Kari was anxious, she didn't show it. She walked calmly toward box 5, not pausing at the entrance, just stepping across the threshold as if it were something she did every day.

But then she saw him. And her clever façade broke down. And so did she. She burst into miserable tears as soon as she lay eyes on him, but she didn't stop walking. She kept moving, tears streaming down her cheeks until she could walk no further – until she was pressed right up against Erik. She threw her arms around him in despair, and wept bitterly, sobbing forcefully into his chest. Monique watched from the entrance of Box 5, stunned. Partly because she'd never seen Kari like this, partly because she'd acted so well, right up until she'd seen Erik, partly because she could barely think what to do – but, lastly, because Erik responded to her. After a lengthy moments hesitation, he slowly wrapped his arms around her torso, cradling her shuddering from against him. She disappeared into him, her wailing muffled against the smooth fabric of his dress coat.

Monique watched in shocked silence for some time, and gradually Karis sobs began to ebb. But she began to speak, "I'm sorry.. I'm s… s.. so.. . sorry.. Erik" she began to sobbing raspily once more, trying to look up at him. Erik ran his hand down against the back of her head and pressed her face towards his chest once more, muffling her cries. "Do not be sorry. You sang like the angel you are. That fool is blinded by greed. But as greed makes her foolish, and easily manipulated. It shall also be her undoing." He murmured softly, there was a hint of foreboding in his voice, but it was clear that her 'undoing' would not be a result of any action taken against her, but the natural course of life, as it were.

In box 5 – many emotions stirred. Feeling things that were too complex for her to explain and justify to herself Monique slipped away silently, through the curtains, to save herself the trouble of trying to understand the emotions trying desperately to be noticed in her mind. It was painful to watch. For many reasons. She tried to refuse succumbing to her thoughts, but they were too powerful… and they were all she had.

It saddened her to see Kari lose the part, _especially _to Yekaterina, but it broke her heart to see Kari so upset. And there was nothing she could do. Especially with Erik supplying the comfort she needed; and perhaps - though she tried her best not to admit it even to herself – that was bothering her also. 'No, I'm just tired.' Monique assured herself, starting to walk to keep her mind off the rampaging thoughts in her brain. She found herself back at the staircase where she had been waiting for Kari, and seated herself, just the same as before. 'It doesn't bother me… I'm just sad for her.' She decided resolutely.  
'Then why does it bother you to see him _hugging _her?' her mind taunted her.

Monique tried to refuse even entertaining those thoughts, trying to convince herself she wasn't bothered.

But it did bother her. It bothered her a lot. Why had he returned Karis' affections and never hers? She felt a little pang of hurt… possibly mixed with jealousy, but then why should she be so surprised? Her own parents could not show her affection. So why a man who barely knew her?

_Now you've read… it's your turn to write. It's called courtesy :P._

**VVVV**


	14. Past Intertwined

_**A/N:** Forgive the length of time since my last update, I have been rather busy. However, this chapter is fairly long – so I may have redeemed myself? Also this chapter is – well, I wrote it in bits and pieces and at times it grew increasingly hard to write. However it is now done. And I leave it in your capable hands._

Let me know what you think…

**Chapter 13:**

PAST INTERTWINED

Kari was seated in the lounge watching a French game show with vacant eyes, while Monique sat in her usual contemplative spot – the kitchen bench, leant back in that awkward manner that allowed her a view of the Eiffel Tower. Karis sadness had now subsided, she had come to accept the Directors decision, with much coaxing from herself, Erik and Monique combined. And then there had been the surprise when Monique and Kari had been leaving the Opera de Pallisade that evening.

Laine Deveraux, the Director, had stopped them before leaving. Apologising profusely. "Kari, let me tell you, right now, that if Ivan had not showed up, you would have secured that part."

Kari shrugged, her face downcast, her eyes were still swollen from the many tears she had shed to Erik.   
"I know it seems very yellow-bellied of myself to give Yekaterina the part when you were the better singer, but… to tell you the truth, the company is in a little bit of financial strife right now." Her voice was lowered to a conspiring whisper.

Kari looked up to meet Laines eyes, "How much… financial strife are we talking about?" fearing for her job, not that she had a decent part, but that was immaterial.

"We lost one of our benefactors – and we can not at all afford to lose another. As it is, we are struggling to keep our heads above water. I gave her the part to ensure her fathers continued financial support. I'm sorry. We're planning on throwing everything into the upcoming gala. Make it a most impressive affair, generate interest, get more benefactors, more 'butts on seats' if you will. If all goes to plan the company will be out of hot water, and our best talent, yourself included will secure main parts for the end of season performance, based on feedback from the board of directors and benefactors."

Monique bit her lip, Kari scoffed disbelievingly.

"Yeah… I can just see that all so clearly now. I'll be landing a main part based on my SPECTACULAR performance at the back of the stage as part of the chorus. Great." She nodded, then moved to brush past the Director.

"I managed to cut the first interval down, and shuffle some items – freeing up 5 minutes in the schedule." It was the tone of the Directors voice that caught Karis attention, and she paused mid-step.

"A rough draft of the prospective schedule." She said simply as she handed Kari an A4 sized paper, folded in half horizontally.

Kari went to open it, but Laine continued talking, effectively stopping her from eyeing the contents of the paper.

"I remember when you first auditioned to move from chorus to soloist for us." She paused with a smile on her face, "Your voice was good then and your voice is even better now. Obviously something has clicked, or you've been seeing someone… if that is the case, return to your teacher. And at the gala…. you will excel." She put her hand on Karis shoulder.  
Monique stared at her as if she'd grown another head. Was she channelling Erik? Was Erik speaking through her? Their words were eerily similar.  
Kari nodded disconnectedly, not sure what Laine was on about. But she didn't stick around to explain. With one last look she disappeared back toward the auditorium, leaving the two girls alone once more. Monique huddled against Kari as she opened the piece of paper, the two scanned the item list rapidly. There! In Act III of the variety gala:

**Con Te Partiro - ** QUARANTOTTO

Performed by _Kari Demase, Soprano Soloist; _Orchestral Accompaniment.

The two girls gasped loudly in unison. "Oh my god.…" Kari breathed.  
"I knew they couldn't have left you out!" Monique cried.

Kari stared at her name on the paper, as if frightened the moment she took her eyes away it would disappear.

"I can't believe it. This is one of my favourite pieces." She whispered.

"Guess you didn't need the Madame Butterfly Aria after all." Monique reasoned.  
"Well…. Those numbers are bigger, and will probably be more elaborate. Also Act I & II are more based on actual opera scenes, almost like little auditions, so they'll be more important. But…" she trailed off and shrugged, "It's definitely better then nothing." She looped her arm through Moniques and they headed down the stairs leading from the Opera House and out into the streets.   
"I can't wait to tell Erik." She almost squealed in delight.

Monique smiled and nodded, part of her retreating from the conversation when his name was mentioned.

So now Karis sadness had turned to excitement. She would sing Con te Partiro – maybe it wasn't going to be as celebrated as the Aria from Madame Butterfly, but she would sing it as if it was the last song she would ever sing.

Monique stared out the window at the Eiffel Tower, somehow she found the huge construction comforting, or perhaps she just used it to occupy her eyes while her mind was in 'do not disturb' mode with all the thoughts running through her head. As if on auto-replay, she kept seeing Erik hugging Karis crying form to his chest. It bit into her every time she saw it, but somehow she couldn't seem to end her self-torture. To make matters worse Monique had sat through Kari making a phone call to her parents in Texas. They had congratulated her over and over, assuring her that she would land a good part in the end of season Opera, and that they would make the trip over to see her – then take her back home for the Christmas holidays. The though filled Kari with joy, and Monique with dread. But Monique didn't let that show on her face, she gave Kari another congratulatory hug before retiring for the night.

"Try that again… remember, relax here," Erik ran his fingers down the side of Karis throat, "Don't let the high notes stress you into singing from your throat, you need to keep relaxed and allow it just to be a conduit of sound and energy… sing from here." He pressed his palm against her abdomen and she instinctively tightened her abdominals, "Right up to your eyes." He gazed into her eyes then and Kari swooned with admiration.

Monique sat watching from the stairs, thinking about Eriks pointers, and filing them away for her own usage later, but she grew bored with that game and started to fidget. Just as Erik moved to sit down at the piano once more, Monique spoke up, "Erik, is there something I can do? Like… somewhere I _can_ explore without you getting shi-, without uhhh, trespassing?"

Erik thought a moment, then acquiesced, "You may explore my modest library." Monique got up and headed down the stairs, toward the passage that lead to his so called 'modest library' "Do not break anything." She heard Eriks voice calling after.

Monique rolled her eyes, "Oh damn… that was just what I had intended." She called back sarcastically. Erik didn't bother to gratify her comment with a response and returned to guiding Kari in singing Con te Partiro.

Kari and Monique had bought Erik breakfast once more, and they had dined much the same as they had the previous morning, save for Monique upsetting Erik and the 'sword incident' as Monique had come to call it in her mind. It had been a pleasant morning, and Monique had been happy to be once again in Eriks presence, but yet again she had not had the chance to ask him to listen to her sing and give her some pointers. Erik had been pleased that Kari had been offered a solo, even, Monique thought, somewhat anxious, or perhaps excited at the idea of moulding Kari for her new solo. Even when Kari had tried to explain to him that her solo wouldn't be much of a big deal compared to the items in the second act, (which included Yekaterina singing the aria _Un bel di vedremo_) Erik had simply congratulated her on receiving a praise worthy piece, and assured her she had work to be done if in fact she was to bring down the house. Kari had simply rolled her eyes, yet Erik had seemed so confident in her, and seemed content with Con te Partiro – especially after he had played it on his piano, quietly vocalising along with it.

So Monique had been sitting watching them do vocal warm-ups and mess around with vocal exercises the move into singing various parts of the song, Erik stopping every now and then to get her to tune a particular note up, or narrow a vowel sound or something of the like. Monique was beginning to feel invisible next to Kari, and decided she might as well slink into the background – the Library seemed the perfect place to be.

Monique perused the shelves, it was bursting full of books on a variety of subjects, but most were concerned with music appreciation, music theory, vocal theory and opera productions. She blew dust away from the spines, reading the titles, with a gasp she pulled one book from the handcrafted shelf "_Traité complet de l'art du chant" _Complete treatise on the art of singing) by Manuel Garcia. The book that most other books on singing theory published after the 1850s were based on. Obviously Erik had studied and took much of Garcias methods to heart – as he was very concerned with the understanding of the physical instrument (the larynx, throat and diaphragm) and how best to get the instrument to play (his incessant postural corrections). Monique put the book back and moved across the shelf more, but stopped when she noticed a container of scrolls beneath the table on the far wall. Instinctively she knew it would contain items of interest, probably items of interest she wasn't meant to look at – but curiosity pushed her on, she hadn't learnt her lesson from the previous day.

Taking a look around her, and listening carefully for any sounds, she was encouraged. It was obvious Erik would still be preoccupied with Kari so she dove underneath the table and retrieved the cylindrical container. 

Monique knelt beside the container and pulled a few scrolls out at whim, unrolling them carefully to view their contents. One was a half finished coal sketch of a females face, a _beautiful_ females face, which Monique carefully laid aside. The next one, she was shocked to see, was a coal sketch of Erik. Except his face was not hidden by mask. But his face was not disfigured, it was perfect on both sides – and had she not known better she would've sworn it to be an imprint of a photo. The drawing, obviously by himself, was near perfect. She passed through more scrolls, more faces, a bird, an angelic form, costumes both male and female, a detailed rawing of a mechanical pulley system and then, some scrolls with writing. Monique paused on those, taking her to time to read them – some appeared to be lyrics to songs, there was a whole scroll covered in writing in French, some in Italian and more in English. One in particular caught her eye:

La Figlia Che Piange A/N: The Young girl who weeps 

_Stand on the highest pavement of the stair  
Lean on a garden urn  
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair  
Clasp your flowers to you with a pained surprise  
Fling them to the ground and turn  
With a fugitive resentment in your eyes:  
But weave, weave the sunlight in your hair._

_So I would have had him leave,  
So I would have had her stand and grieve,  
So he would have left  
As the soul leaves the body torn and bruised,  
As the mind deserts the body it has used.  
I should find  
Some way incomparably light and deft,  
Some way we both should understand,  
Simple and faithless as a smile and shake of the hand._

_She turned away, but with the autumn weather  
Compelled my imagination many days,  
Many days and many hours:  
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.  
And I wonder how they should have been together!  
I should have lost a gesture and a pose.  
Sometimes these cogitations still amaze  
The troubled midnight and the noon's repose._

_**-1870**_

Monique read and reread the poem – judging by the subject matter and the year, it could only be about one person. _Christine._ The poem flowed beautifully from her tongue as she read it quietly aloud to herself, the images swirling in her head. Was there no end to Eriks abilities? What if he had showed this poem to Christine? Would it have changed her mind? Affected the way she thought about Erik? There was so much meaning contained inside it, inside each verse, inside each _word._ Monique looked back to the beginning of the last verse:

'_She turned away, but with the autumn weather  
Compelled my imagination many days,  
Many days and many hours:  
Her hair over her arms and her arms full of flowers.  
And I wonder how they should have been together!'_

And something clicked into place. She remembered from Raouls version of the events:

'_That was the night, so much of our lives changed. La Carlotta was rendered unable to sing in Il Muto, and Christine was forced to take the role as the Countess, orchestrated, of course, by the wicked monster we had all come to fear; the Phantom. Christine was devastated the night, unable to comprehend how complicated her once sweet life had become. Fearing for her life, and future of our lives together we made a plan to flee the Opera House following the completion of the performance. Of course, at the completion of the performance, I , as promised took Christine away in the family carriage, with our finest horses. As we departed from disreputable Opera House, that cool Autumn night – I felt a sense of bliss, underlined by the ever present sense of foreboding concerning the wickedness that had invaded Christines' life, that curse which she had denied. _

_We took time away from the Opera house, but I didn't have the heart to watch Christine mope around our Estate, as she longed for her music. Within a month we were back with the Opera House, then enjoyed 2 months of bliss, perhaps ignorant bliss, but it was pure bliss all the same. There was not a sound from the evil cursed creature and we all moved on with our lives, that is… until that fateful night. 3 months (to the day) after that cursed production of Il Muto the Opera was celebrating present and future glory with an elaborate Bal Masque, chorus, soloist, and patron revelled alike. _

_Christine and I were particularly jubilant, we had become engaged and my parents had kindly blessed our future matrimony, our joy was tainted by the distant memory of evil – but that was all I had thought it was – a distant memory. Unfortunately, I was wrong. For **he, **arrived. In all his wickedness. It was a shock to one and all, to be basking in the rewards of hard work one moment and then to be haltered into fear the next. All at the sight… of… it. The hideous crimson cloth of the devil, topped by a grotesque skull masque, in a vain attempt at hiding the monstrosity that had disturbed our happy masquerade. Not only was his presence most unwelcome, but he bought with him something else, something perhaps more unwelcome them he, the devil himself. An opera… entirely composed by himself.'_

Monique now understood that verse. Christine had turned away… and fled the Opera house that Autumn night, driving Erik crazy with gripping thoughts of Christine, compelling his imagination to produce the Opera _Don Juan Triumphant_, in which, Christine was to be Aminta, a gypsy, arriving on stage, her arms full of flowers, not yet in full bloom (much like herself). _And I wonder how the should have been together._ Oh, he had found a way. It was almost certain that becoming Passarino was his intention all along, but abducting Christine? That must've been Plan B, failing her falling into his arms, swooning and confessing her love. What a night it must have been for him. For _everyone_ involved. How had they ever managed to forget such an occurrence?

Monique couldn't help but wonder where she would be right now had Christine favoured Erik over Raoul. Upon reflection over that very fact, she came to the conclusion that things would be quite different. For a start, she probably wouldn't have met Erik. On second thoughts… it appeared to Monique that she probably wouldn't be in Eriks lair at all. Perhaps not even in **Paris** at all. Curiously she explored her life as if an objective observer, thinking about the impact _Le fantome de l'Opera_ had had on her. She had fallen in love with the story, it romanticism and it's tragedy. Surely though, what really stood out the most was Erik… and the fate it was assumed he was left to in the end of the book, when Christine ran to Raouls waiting arms. Would the story have had as much impact if the ending had favoured Erik? That was a hard question to answer. Did she identify and feel more empathy for Erik because of the ending of the story? That also was a hard question to answer, but she leant towards a _yes. _Lastly, she stumbled over another thought. Would the story have even been written if Christine had chosen Erik? Perhaps not. As crazy as it seemed, an event that occurred in a country foreign to the country of her birth some 113 years later, had profoundly affected the developments of her life.

Had Christine not chosen Raoul, maybe Monique would not have known Kari, and almost certainly would not be in France and therefore not auditioned and gained a part in the musical Moulin Rouge, and definitely would not have explored the Opera de Pallisade and met Erik. So… had the pain and suffering Erik endured been some twist of fate? It frightened her to think of how much of the Opera House history was entwined in her life, and how peoples decisions made well over a hundred years ago had deeply affected the way she lived right now.

Monique stared down at the poem once more, the words merging to a blur before her eyes, but she stared on, lost in thought. She suddenly felt very small… somewhat insignificant in the vast caverns, and more importantly, in the mystery of life. She wondered perhaps if she was pathetic for her interest in Erik, her curiosity over him had affected much of her later life – bringing her to live in a foreign country where she barely spoke much of the language, just to be closer to where he lived. Searching out his lair to prove to herself that his story was true. And then finding him… and falling prey to a seemingly instant inexorable pull toward him. But then, she'd felt a strange pull her whole life, a need to search, some inner sense that there was more out there – or was that because her home life had been a miserable prison? Somehow, it seemed, Erik was a beacon… a point of gravity and she had been drawn toward him from the first time she read of his story. Or maybe she was reading too much into it. Whatever the case, suddenly Monique pitied herself.

"I'm a parasite." She whispered bitterly to herself, a flicker of anger begging to be ignited stirred in her stomach. 'I've been living off… other people… some stupid dream!' she chastised herself, the flicker growing to a flame. 'I fell in love with Paris…. Why? Probably influenced by the fact that I read about it so often in _the book_. Kari and I bonded firstly over our shared obsession for _the book_. We talked a lot about it… and then came up with the crazy idea to move to Paris upon graduation from Straata. Would I have moved to Paris if I had not been so blindly obsessed by that _STUPID BOOK!_ ' The flame had grown larger and large, and now it was war with herself. 'Did I move to Paris because I thought I could find that **_he_** truly existed? WHY? What would that prove? Would that prove that I was not the only person to be unloved by their parents? Would that give me some sense of clarity?' She berated herself relentlessly. Letting the accusatory, bitter, resentful thoughts whirl round and round in her head, attacking her stony wall of defence mercilessly. Pain and adrenaline flooded her veins, but she would not stop. She wanted it to ache. 'Now that I've found him? What was I expecting? Him to make things better? Him to fix the holes in the façade that I put on? Plumb up all the gaps… make things ok? I was a fool for coming—'

"I knew I should come and check on you." The deep voice interrupted her fiery attack, and Monique spun around swiftly to face him, her eyes alight.

If he noticed, he didn't react. Monique instinctively moved away from the scrolls sprawled on the floor, as Erik moved towards them.  
He bent and picked them up, rolling the open ones up and placing them all into their container once more.

"I don't like to give too much free reign." He elaborated, giving her a quick glance, but she didn't react. Just stared at him, the fire still boiling within her, thoughts brewing and turning over, isolating her from his calm demeanour.

"Though I said you could explore, I know there is much I do not wish you to see." He spoke as he put the container away back beneath the table, then stood to face her.  
Monique sneered, "Yeah…. Just like what's behind the mask right? Face value only around here, **right?**" she spat, glaring at him accusingly, as if somehow everything was his fault.

Erik reeled, his calmness evaporated in a split second, replaced entirely by a burning fury that seared him right to the skin. His reaction was lightening fast. His white knuckled fist wrapped around a wrought iron candelabra from the table behind him. And then he threw it. With deadly accuracy. At her.

_**NOTE: **The Poem "Le Figlia Che Piange" is written by T.S Elliot._

_I just thought it was a perfect fit so I have used it. Obviously I am not T. S Elliot, so I did not write it (neither did Erik) – so can take no credit for it. So kudos to Mr Elliot, you rock._

_Thanks for reading. XOX._

_Please review… the button is just down there, **VV**_


	15. Coal and Diamonds

**A/N:** I'm getting pissed off with ffnet not displaying my formatting and line breaks etc – so I'm trying a new means of breaking up paragraphs between time lapses. Bear with the random 8s okay?

Also apologies for the time taken to update, I've been busy yet again, and I also try to take time and care over the chapters to ensure they come out as I want. This chapter is 10 pages long on word… so that's something to be thankful for right? … right? ;) 

Without further ado…

**Chapter 14:**

COAL TO DIAMONDS

'His white knuckled fist wrapped around a wrought iron candelabra from the table 

_behind him. And then he threw it. With deadly accuracy. At her.'_

The furious flight of the candelabra was flawless. His aim absolutely perfect. And it was that perfection that saved her. For in fact, despite appearances, he had not aimed the candelabra for her, but rather at the wall just beside her. The candelabra crashed directly into the shelf beside her, shattering a porcelain platter that had been on display. The sheer force of the crash sent shards of porcelain flying, and Monique cried out as something stung her face, instinctively she ducked the ground, holding one cheek in her hand, cowering. The fragments of porcelain rained down to the stone floor, the last sound in the bizarre symphony of violence before a heavy silence descended.

Erik stared across the room at the forlorn creature cowering against the wall, she was eerily still for some time, then finally unfurled from the protective ball she had bundled herself into. Monique pulled her hand from her stinging cheek, and let out a gasp as she observed her bloodied fingers. A cold fog gathered in the pit of Eriks stomach as bloodied hand pulled away to reveal her face, a small rivulet of blood took a winding path down her cheek, like a large solitary crimson tear, staining her pale skin. The blood snapped him out of his guilt-inspired paralysis and he whirled on his heel and stalked away, the only thing he could think to do. As soon as he had done it, he realised it was the wrong thing to do. But how could he go back now? He took two more steps then forced himself to betray his sense of pride and turn back. He couldn't leave her like that.

Monique didn't move, barely even reacted when Erik took off. It was a reaction she had grown accustomed to, and had even predicted. But what she hadn't counted on, was him returning. After disappearing for a moment, he was there once more, walking towards her, his eyes on her face, but not meeting her own eyes. Monique held her breath as he got closer, then flinched visibly, squeezing her eyes shut as he crouched down beside her. When nothing happened she slowly opened her eyes, and found herself staring straight at him, those eyes that looked out from a face, half given, half mystery. He moved subtly and produced a crisp white handkerchief which he held out to her, his eyes showing a hint of remorse. Monique merely looked at him, almost transfixed, but refused to accept the handkerchief from him. Eriks chest rose and then fell with a sigh that escaped his lips, "Would it do anything to help, if I said I was sorry?" he asked softly, then leant closer, brushing the soft white handkerchief across her bloodied cheek, he wiped away the shard of porcelain that had torn her cheek then blotted the blood with a fold of the material. It's pristine whiteness was becoming overtaken by the bright crimson stain of her blood. "Oh, do you mean to ask, 'will my empty words placate you'? The answer to that is, **no**. Why bother saying something when you don't mean it, _Erik_?" she said his name as if it were an insult.

"And what then, if my words are true?" He enquired, not rising to her bait, still he held the handkerchief to her cheek.

Monique gazed up into his eyes, her resolve faltering, something reminiscent of sincerity showed in the milky-sapphire irises. She reached up and smoothed her hand over his, taking the handkerchief from him, and he let his hand fall away.

She didn't bother to answer his previous question, there didn't seem to be a need. Silently the discord had been resolved, in the only way they really knew how – by side-stepping it altogether.

Monique moistened the handkerchief and dabbed at her face, clearing away the semi-dry blood on her cheeks. The wound no longer bled, and she appeared no worse for wear. "Come… return with me." Erik offered his hand down to her to help her up.  
"You go…" she gave a small smile, "I'll be there shortly."

Eriks hand dropped slowly, like a balloon leaking air, "You are now disillusioned? You have seen… the monster that I claimed to be." His voice was soft, there was no ulterior motive behind his words.

Monique shook her head, "I'm neither disillusioned by you, nor convinced you're a monster. I just want a few moments to compose myself. Besides, Kari will be wondering where you are, you should check on her. We can't be trusted for very long on our own…" she gave a crooked smile at that.  
He offered her his hand again, and this time Monique took it, letting him help her to her feet.   
"Very well." He murmured, holding her eyes as he held her hand. They lingered in that position for longer then necessary, then Erik excused himself, moving away silent and graceful as ever.

Monique let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding and leant up against the wall, her eyes venturing upwards. What she wouldn't give for some clarity! Her thoughts came and went in a lightening storm of confusion. She wasn't scared of Erik. She was scared of how he made her feel… scared to let herself feel too much or to give in – for what if it was all make believe? Could emotions really be trusted? Should she let Erik affect her so? After all he was a figure from a book – and she had no right being here with him? The internal storm persisted, and she didn't have the strength to discern it's every element, so surrendered and ignored the questions, giving into living in the moment once more.

She straightened herself up a bit, in preparation to return to Kari and Erik, wondering if Kari would know that another 'event' had transpired between them. She decided to not tell her, if she asked she would dart around the subject, unless Kari knew what she was asking about. She decided to return, but first she had one last little task. She scurried over to the container of the scrolls and examined a couple before pulling out one that she had briefly noticed, but hadn't examined properly before.

Monique rolled the scroll out, admiring the images with a smile. Costumes. Dresses, day, outdoor and formal. A loose paper fluttered out from the scroll and she bent to pick it up, on the smaller scrap of paper was another costume design. But this one was much more striking then the others, it was drawn on a lithe female body, with the outline of a head, with a swirling mass of hair in an elaborate updo – but there were no facial features. The model had no identity. Monique smiled to herself, closing her eyes – and gave the model a face. Yes… perfect, she opened her eyes, smiling even wider now she folded the paper in quarters then tucked it into her bra. After she restored the room to it's usual order, (save for the smashed porcelain on the floor, which she thought should be left for Erik) she hurried through the stone 'mansion' back to music room.

**-8-**

NEXT MORNING:

"What is that?" Kari peered closely at Monique, who was sitting in her usual place on the kitchen bench, eating some bizarre sloppy concoction of hers for breakfast.

Monique frowned, "Breakfast." She replied.  
"No… on your cheek?" she pointed.  
Monique ran her finger across her cheek, the wound from Eriks rage. She had forgotten about it.  
"Oh… I tripped up the steps into the library and kinda cut my face on a piece of stone sticking out. It kind bled for a while, but it's okay." Monique shrugged it off indifferently.

Kari looked at her curiously a moment, then she too shrugged it off.  
"Anyway, you want to come with me to L'ouvrière couturier? Laine said I could find a costume from there, or get fitted from a dress if I preferred. I think I'll just get one made for me… then I can make it perfect." She smiled slyly.

Monique nodded, "Sure," she replied and a sly smile spread across her lips also, but for different reasons.

**-8-**

Kari was busy with the seamstress in one of the curtained off areas of the store while Monique roamed around the costumes and ball gowns on display, eyeing each dress quickly, rendering it unsuitable and continuing on to the next.

"Êtes-vous ici avec Mlle Kari?" A voice interrupted her perusal from behind.   
Monique spun quickly, "Oui." She replied with a nod.  
"Je dois vous mesurer pour votre robe, viens avec moi" She pulled a tape measure from the apron tied around her waist.

Monique frowned, 'Did she just say that she needed to measure me for my dress? Does she think I'm part of the Opera group who needs a dress made?' she wondered.

But her French was rudimentary, perhaps she had misunderstood – but then again, she was leading her towards another curtained off area, un-twining her measuring tape. "Nous devons être rapides, j'avons seulement une semaine pour faire votre robe pour le Gala" She twittered in her rapid French.

Moniques eyes widened, she DID think that Monique was to be made a dress. "Oh no.. I.." she started, then suddenly she thought of the paper in her pocket, the paper that was practically burning a hole in her clothes, and she rapidly changed her mind. The women stopped, "Oui?"  
"Oh, sorry, I just.. I don't speak good French, Do you speak English?"  
The women, "Yes," she replied almost curtly, looking far too busy to be dealing with Monique.  
"I… I have this design here that the dress it to look like, if possible." She replied and pulled the paper from her pocket and handed it to the woman.  
She unfolded the paper, her eyes widening appreciatively as she took in the design. _Eriks _design. Eriks design that Monique had _stolen_ yesterday. "Very nice, I'm sure it can be arranged. But come quickly Mlle, we haven't the time to waste if I am to produce the beautiful gown for you."

**-8-**

"She said my dress would be ready Friday for pickup, the day before the Gala, but I've got my last rehearsal that day." Kari explained as she and Monique walked through the theatre on their way to meet Erik.  
"I'll get it for you." Monique said quickly, almost too quickly, but Kari didn't seem to notice.

"You will? Cool, thanks that takes a load off my plate." She wrapped an arm around Moniques shoulders.  
Monique only smiled, of course she was glad to – she had to find a way to get her made to order dress home without Kari questioning her how she'd got it done. She'd just have to lie and say it was in the shop and she bought it when she went to pick it up.

**-8-**

When they met with Erik he seemed to be in somewhat of a foul mood.

"What's wrong Erik?" Kari finally asked him after they had completed another lengthy vocal lesson.  
He turned toward her slowly, "I have noticed something of mine is missing." He answered.

Monique froze. Every muscle fibre in her body taut with anxiety.  
"What's missing?" Kari enquired, placing the score back into her folder.  
Erik stood up from the piano "A precious jewel, that I had… acquired during my time at the Opera House… I have noticed it missing, among a few other possessions." His voice was dark.  
Monique practically melted with relief, letting out the breath she had been holding.  
"Well.. I can assure you, it wasn't us that took anything." Kari spoke.  
Monique nodded, okay… so she had taken something, but it was only a bit of paper – and she would return it when she got a chance.  
"I know it was not you – I believe it must have happened when those marauders entered my lair uninvited." His eyes flashed darkly with painful memories.

"I'm sorry," Monique apologised as if it could change the circumstances.

"There is no need for you to apologise when there is nothing you have done wrong." He replied.  
'Well… I wouldn't say there was _nothing_ I've done wrong' Monique thought, but kept silent.  
"We have to go Moni, Laine wants me to do a sing through for her, to check I'm on track." She gestured at her watch, then turned to Erik, "Thanks Erik, I'll practice the end tomorrow and I'll see you again on Tuesday." She stepped forward and gave him a hug, he didn't exactly hug her in return, but placed one hand across her back for a moment before she released him.

She gave him a small smile then turned, heading down toward the boat. Monique looked at Erik a moment then turned and followed Kari.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to ask me?" his silky voice stopped her in her tracks.

She turned slowly on the spot and finally looked up at him, not sure exactly what he was getting at. Did he know about her stealing that costume design? Or did he know that she wanted to ask him to come to the Bal Masque after the Gala?

When she didn't respond he took a step forward, regarding her seriously, the left hand side of his mouth curled up into a small, crooked smile. Perhaps he enjoyed the look of surprise on her face.  
"You wanted a lesson, no?" he elaborated.

Moniques shoulders dropped slightly in relief, "Yeah… I mean, if you had time. I know your concentrating on Kari at the moment, and the Gala is less then a week away, but if you could spare the time." Monique rambled.  
"It would be a pleasure to tutor you. But you must know, that I do not tolerate insolence or complacency when it comes to music. I give fair instruction, but I demand the highest level of compliance. If you fight against my technique, then I can not and will not train you."

Monique nodded, she was somewhat taken aback. He was, indeed, very serious about music. To her it felt like she was being hired for some important position, not merely being allowed to sing for him. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to be his student. How would that affect the other things she thought about him? Or rather, how would he other thoughts affect her being tutored by him.  
"I wont muck around." She finally said, deciding that receiving help from him was an opportunity to good to pass up.

Erik nodded, quite accepting.

Monique removed her bag form her back and pulled out the folder she'd been carrying around for a few days. "This is the libretto." She held it out towards him, "It's called Moulin Rouge, I'm playing Satine."

Erik took the folder from her, casting an eye over the first page.  
"The Moulin Rouge is a… a.. well, I'm a, uhh _Satine_ is, she's a Courtesan. A…" Monique stuttered trying to find the right words.  
"I'm quite aware what the Moulin Rouge is. That debaucherous theatre has been around for some time. I've heard a many a licentious story on my travels through the theatre. The things people will say to each other in confidence when they believe no one else to be around." He smirked, it almost seemed he would let out a satirical laugh, but he simply shook his head.

Monique wondered if perhaps he were taking a stab at her for being in a production based around such a theatre of debauchery as he had stated, "Deabaucherous? Licentious? Hmm… isn't that how a certain persons opera _Don Juan Triumphant_ was described?" she raised an eyebrow, eyeing him challengingly.

At this a small laugh escaped Eriks mouth, "You are very quick to defend mademoiselle. It is without reason, for I am only teasing with you." His handsome features moved into what would've been a smile had his mouth fully participated, but he was too reserved for smiles just yet. His eye sparkled though and Monique knew his humanity was alive and well – it just had to brought to the surface. He was a lump of coal, so to speak, as of that moment, but with the right conditions, and with enough persistence she would make him a diamond.

**-8-8-**

Erik had enjoyed the libretto of Moulin Rouge, more so then he even let on to Monique. The story had him fascinated, the bohemians in their pursuit of truth, beauty, freedom and most importantly, **love**. He found himself simultaneously identifying with certain characters, and or characters emotions, and some lines seemed to stick in his head, '_The greatest thing you'll ever learn, is just to love and be loved in return'_. It rung as truth in his mind and heart. It disturbed him that Satine had to die in the end. It hardly seemed fair. But then, as he had learned, love was not fair, it didn't play a game of rules – it simply was a law unto itself. If he admitted it to himself, he was anxious to see it performed live, and subconsciously was already thinking of ways to get to see it, none of which seemed plausible as yet, but they were there, ticking away in the recesses of his mind.

Erik and Kari had been busy rehearsing Con te Partiro, picking the song to pieces, and building it back up again, so much so, that by Thursday Monique still had no received any vocal tuition from Erik. Nor had he returned her libretto. She'd had enough of wondering, and finally, when Erik and Kari broke from singing she approached him.

"May I have my libretto back?" she enquired without darting around the subject.  
"Of course. But I had thought you were intending on some lessons." He raised an eyebrow at her.  
Monique faltered, "Well… I _had_ been, but you've said nothing… so I sorta assumed that was over now."

Erik tilted his head quizzically, "You, mademoiselle, have said nothing. I thought you would have come to ask by now, but you have been rather silent these past few days."

Monique sighed, "Well, you … you didn't say anything! I was waiting for you!"

Erik smiled then, almost smugly, "I was waiting for you."

Monique rolled her eyes, "Fine, whatever. So, now I've asked for the libretto back, can I have it?" she held out a hand.  
"First… you sing." He announced, pulling the libretto out from the shelf, he headed back towards his piano.  
Monique followed along behind mutely, trying to think of all the pointers he had given Kari over the past few days, so she wouldn't make the same mistakes.

**-8-8-**

Erik seated himself at the piano, and gestured for Monique to stand on his left, beside the piano. Monique followed his direction, watching him closely.   
"Take a moment and breathe." His voice seemed quieter now, almost a warm whisper.

She did a few diaphragmatic breathing exercises, and then he began to play a scale.  
"Close your eyes," his sensual whispering voice implored her, and she obeyed instantly.

She did several simple scales up and down, then missed note scales up and down, then did some octave jumping, "Now, open your eyes." She did as he asked, and found him gazing at her. "Scales, once more. Remember, really lift the soft palate on the high notes, and sing through your eyes."

'sing through my eyes?' she mused, it seemed a strange thing to say, but she knew what he was getting at. She aimed the sound at her eyes, and actually found it helpful.

"You seem nervous." Erik murmured, close to Moniques ear – he was eyeing her singing posture critically.

Monique turned her head to look at him, "That's because-" he reached up with one hand and turned her head back to the front, then held her chin, elongating her neck some more. "I am." She finished.

"Why?" he seemed to purr. Perhaps a loaded question.

Monique considered her answer for a moment, then without coming up with a constructive way of putting it, she simple replied "Because it's you." Indeed, a loaded answer.  
He gave a small laugh of surprise, a sound that was low and throaty, alluring and seductive without meaning to be. Monique felt herself leaning backwards unconsciously towards him, he pressed his hands against her shoulders, pushing her weight forwards onto the balls of her feet once more.  
"If you sing with your heart, there is no need to be nervous when you sing to me." He replied.

Erik flicked through the score, heading for the song that had captured him the most. "I thought we might work on…" he began as he pulled pages apart.  
'ooh come what may, come what may.. please please!' Monique begged inside her head.  
"Come What May." He arranged the score on the piano and seated himself once more.  
He began to play, "Sing." He ordered in that silky, sensual, near-whispery tone that just made you want to do anything he asked.

"But this is the guy part?" Monique questioned.  
"Sing the whole song. It is good for you, and for me also." He replied.  
So Monique did as requested, singing Christians parts, but in her octave, then singing Satines parts in the rest of the song.

**-8-8-**

"Sing the end again, and don't lift your chin." Erik placed a thumb on the cleft of Moniques chin adjusting it downwards.

"I didn't! I.." Monique began to protest.

"You did. Don't argue, just don't do it. You don't need to sing with your chin, use your eyes."

Monique grit her teeth, then sang the final climactic notes of the song, trying to project right up into her eyes, while using her gaze to keep her head level.

"Better…" he murmured.

Monique sensed there was a 'but' on the end of that, but he never said it.

Erik played the starting note, first in one octave, and then in one higher. To her surprise, and intense delight, he began to sing. Without the piano. Just the smooth, warm rich sensuous tones of his perfect tenor voice.

'_Never thought I could feel like this  
like I've never seen the sky before.  
Want to vanish inside your kiss  
Each day I love you more and more.'_

Monique closed her eyes, savouring the melodic haunting sound of his voice filling her ears, and reaching inside her in hypnotising waves.

_  
'Listen to my heart can you hear it sing  
Telling me to give you everything_

_Seasons may change, Winter to Spring  
But I love you until the end of time'_

Erik was now standing behind her, his voice washing over her. His voice seemed to be right up against her ear, as if his mouth were lingering against her ear lobe. She couldn't see, and she couldn't turn to see so she had no way of knowing how close he really way, but her head rolling back as she delighted in his warm masculine scent. She found herself wishing her would touch her, take her in his arms, and hold her, if even just for a few moments. Even as he sung the words that were merely lyrics as written, her mind was playing make believe, telling her that he meant the words. That he sung the words for her._  
_

_Come what may, Come what May  
I will Love you until my dying day  
_

Monique took a deep filling breath, preparing to join him in song. She tensed slightly as he corrected her head alignment for correct posture. "Relaxxx…" his silken voice urged, the word seemed to live forever in her ears. His touch flooded her with feelings she could not recall ever feeling before – and then she opened her mouth and let the song pour out, as if the words were spontaneous and truthful.

_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace_

Even as she sung them, she found herself starting to believe the words. Despite fully knowing they were only singing what was written.

_  
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste_

_  
It's all revolves around you_

And then his voice joined hers, uniting it song. And he moved closer to her, his voice growing louder in her ears, pushing her to project higher to match him.

_  
And there's no mountain too high  
No river too wide  
Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side  
storm clouds may gather and stars may collide  
But I love you until the end of time  
_

And then he was right behind her, leaning closer, the left side of his face, nearly pressed against the right side of hers. The song had built to the climax, the emotions had built and were threatening to boil over, it was all Monique could do to prevent herself from whirling around to face him. She forced herself to focus, letting her lungs fill with air.

_  
Come what may, Come what may, _

And then his hands were on her. Around her waist, from behind, holding the sides of her waist then sliding a slow path to rest against her flat abdomen. They took a breath together, and united once more, putting everything into the final proclamation of the song, his hands pressed firmly into her abdomen.

_I will love you until my dying day_

She held the final note with his voice, somehow sensing when he would finish, and they ended together. Monique felt almost breathless, heat burning in her cheeks, she felt good. Never had she sung the song like that in her own practice.

She closed her eyes, savouring the sweet feelings of endorphins racing through her blood, the feeling of having put all of herself into those final notes, with a small smile on her face, she completed the song as written, quietly, almost murmuring…

_  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place._

Erik let her go and she turned to face him, awaiting his opinion. "Well sung… but please, do not lift your chin… it distorts the picture." He used one hand to brush the backs of his fingers across her chin. Monique leaned into the touch, gazing at Erik amorously. He held her eyes a moment as though studying them, then let both his hand and his eyes fall from her. "It is late. We must finish." He murmured and started away from her. Monique stood frozen to the spot, what had been that look in his eyes? And if had been as she thought then why was he leaving? Why was he suddenly indifferent? She felt almost betrayed.

When she didn't follow Erik paused and turned to face her. Confusion frosted her pale eyes, and she gave him a look that'd flood the common man with guilt. But then she followed him, wordlessly.

**-8-8-**

When it came time to say goodbye at the other side of the lake that evening the exchange between Kari and Erik was as per usual, but Monique couldn't bring herself to pretend to be unaffected by the happenings that day; so she gave him the cold shoulder. Not even bothering to say goodbye, she simply strode off into the darkness, not even looking back to see whether Kari was close behind her.

Erik watched her shadowy form retreating from his lair, he had given her a lesson and now she had grown icy towards him. What sort of thanks was that? Another woman… who took as much as she liked, then thought herself above giving back.

Perhaps it was a game to her, to be down here, in the Phantoms lair. Erik brooded over those thoughts as he punted back across the lake to his home, he looked around his now vacant home. Despite there be plenty of room he suddenly felt suffocated. With a snarl of frustration he sent a huge standing candelabra to the ground, the crash reverberated unforgivingly "Well… my dear," He growled threateningly, a venomous glint in his eyes as he glared out across the lake, "if it be a game, you must learn the _rules._"

**-8-8-**

_to be continued…_

_Please review and let me know what you think… reviews are easy to do… and the more I know what you think the more I can tailor this story for the audience. Yes? Yes._

Also, I don't own Moulin Rouge or any songs, plots, characters relating to it, so the kudos for 'Come what may' goes to the person who wrote it and to Baz for putting it in Moulin Rouge.


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